


the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes

by playedwright



Series: the universe was made to be seen by our eyes [5]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Astronauts, Descriptions of Recovery, Get Together, Inspired by The Martian (Weir), M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Loves The Word 'Fuck', Slow Burn, alternate universe - astronauts, i swear to god they kiss eventually in this one i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: Richie lets out a small, startled gasp when the door opens and floods the carrier with bright and brilliant sunlight. Eddie can’t quite see his face, angled too much in the wrong direction, but he can hear it when Richie wordlessly starts to cry. Eddie is suddenly viscerally desperate to get them off of there, to put Richie in the sunlight where he belongs and out of the clothes that no longer fit him right. Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand as best as he can. Richie finally turns to him, giving him a small and reassuring smile. His eyes are red and tears still stain his cheeks and Eddie cannot get enough of him, the golden hue of him only illuminated by the sunlight.*Eighteen months after being left alone on Mars, Richie Tozier finally comes home.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the universe was made to be seen by our eyes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565464
Comments: 716
Kudos: 1087





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I MISSED Y'ALL. if you're new here, start with the first part bc this will make no sense without it also i make a lot of references to the first part because i love a good parallel but mostly so this part makes sense!!
> 
> if you've been here for a while and have been as eager about this story as me, welcome back! before i even get into the story, i want to give a huge huge huge thanks to my best friend and to kris, who both held my hand as i freaked out about writing this to so much my face turned blue. i could not have written this without their constant validation. THANK YOU BOTH. I LOVE U.
> 
> anyway me: i'm taking a break from writing!  
> me eight seconds later: no i am not :)

grav·i·ty | _noun_

  1. the force that attracts two bodies toward each other.
  2. extreme or alarming importance; seriousness.



**[ AUGUST 6, 2037 ]**

“Welcome to CNN’s _Richard Tozier Report,_ I’m Cathy Johannsen. It’s a beautiful, clear morning here at Johnson Space Center, and the crowd here is thankful for it. We are only a few short moments away from the landing of the _Ares III_ crew, and as you can see, this crowd is reluctant to look away from the horizon. It has been eighteen months since we first learned of astronaut Richard Tozier’s survival after the rest of the _Ares III_ crew abandoned the mission for their own survival, and his safe return is the most anticipated event of the decade. Those who have been following _Richard Tozier Report_ know that details about his relative health and recovery status have been kept under wraps during the return flight home, but it’s evident that NASA is preparing for anything. A team of doctors, assembled by none other than crew member Edward Kaspbrak, are standing by to evaluate Tozier as soon as he is off the landing shuttle. Most pressing is concerns for malnutrition, bone atrophy, and possible radiation poisoning due to prolonged exposure on Mars…”

* * *

On the tarmac of a space center that they had only been to once before, an elderly couple cling to one another as they both scan the horizon. Both are desperate to capture the first sight of the shuttle breaking through the sky. Neither of them are willing to miss this, the moment where it finally becomes real that their son is returning _home_.

Maggie Tozier clings to her husband’s hand. Beside them, Mindy Park shifts her weight back and forth and tugs on her fingers. She’s one of the only people on the tarmac who is able to look away from the skyline, glancing occasionally at her watch.

  
“Any minute now,” she reassures them. It’s strange, to be outside of Ground Control for this. The last six months have fed her promotion after promotion, giving her the clearance she needed to be here for the landing, but there’s an anxious part of her that wants to be in front of a computer, ready to feed information to Venkat as he asks for it.

Maggie reaches out and grabs Mindy’s hand with her free one.

“Do you believe in God, Mindy?” Maggie asks, voice quiet.

Mindy glances back up at the horizon. “I might,” she admits. “After this. I might.”

Just over two years ago, Maggie and Wentworth had stood on this tarmac and watched as their son had boarded the shuttle that would take him out of this atmosphere. No one could have anticipated what would come next. For months, Maggie had believed she would never see her son again. In many ways, she has been anticipating this moment since the very first time Richie came to their home and told them that NASA had selected him to be a part of the _Ares_ missions.

She had never expected it would come to this.

Maggie blinks, then there is a break in the clouds.

Next to her, Mindy’s shoulders drop as she lets out a deep sigh.

Mindy points with her free hand, towards the small dot that finally breaks through the horizon—finally, a glimpse of the shuttle that carries Richie and the six people he loves more than anything in this universe, bringing them back home where they belong.

Soundlessly, Maggie begins to cry.

* * *

Richie lets out a small, startled gasp when the door opens and floods the carrier with bright and brilliant sunlight. Eddie can’t quite see his face, angled too much in the wrong direction, but he can hear it when Richie wordlessly starts to cry. Eddie is suddenly viscerally desperate to get them off of there, to put Richie in the sunlight where he belongs and out of the clothes that no longer fit him right. Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand as best as he can. Richie finally turns to him, giving him a small and reassuring smile. His eyes are red and tears still stain his cheeks and Eddie cannot get enough of him, the golden hue of him only illuminated by the sunlight.

The ground crew gets Beverly off of the shuttle first. It only takes them a moment to unlatch her from the seat and remove her helmet, something Eddie is sure they’ve practiced a thousand times. Her hair turns vibrant when she’s pulled into the sunlight, and Eddie catches one last glimpse of her fiery hair before she’s lifted out of the cabin and onto the bridge.

Richie starts to panic when the ground crew begins unstrapping Stan.

Eddie leans forward as much as he can, trying to keep Richie’s eyes on him so he can figure out what’s wrong. He’s so attuned to it now, attuned to the way that a hitch in Richie’s breath means that he is starting to freak out, attuned to the way that the shaky tilt of Richie’s head means that he can’t keep his gaze in one place. He is so attuned to all of it, like he was made to track Richie’s idiosyncrasies inside and out.

“Rich?”

“Eds,” Richie chokes out. He turns sharply in his seat, not settling until he finally catches Eddie’s gaze again and even then his eyes are wild and unsteady. Something hot rises rapidly, expanding Eddie’s chest, and he tries to swallow it down because whatever Richie needs right now is more important than his own stupid anxieties. “ _Eddie._ Don’t let go okay?”  
  


Confused, Eddie says, “What?”

Richie tightens his grip around Eddie’s hand. His voice is still strained as he repeats, “ _Don’t let go_.”

So Eddie clings back. He doesn’t tell Richie that he would have held onto him forever after pulling him from the MAV if Richie would have let him. He doesn’t tell Richie that he isn’t ready to let go, either. Instead, Eddie just makes sure that his gaze is unwavering and that his voice doesn’t shake as he promises, “I won’t,” and means it with every atom of his being.

The ground crew member comes to a stop in front of Richie. His gaze snaps to hers abruptly. She’s young, bright-eyed, and her eyes go wide when she catches sight of his name patch. For a moment she just stares at it, until finally she raises her gaze and looks at him head on. She gives him a timid smile. “Welcome home, Dr. Tozier. I’m honored to assist you today.”

Richie lets out a half-laugh, sounding almost startled. Eddie is certain he has no idea what he’s in for as soon as he steps off this carrier. “Richie,” he croaks out. “You can call me Richie.”

Her smile grows. “Richie. I’m Zhina. I’m going to unlatch your tethers now, alright?”

“Be careful,” Eddie instructs. He doesn’t do well to hide the hysteria in his voice. But then Zhina is lifting off Richie’s helmet and Eddie catches the tail end of a smirk on Richie’s lips and Eddie thinks that maybe it’s worth it. “His ribs are still bothering him.”

“Shut _up,_ Eds —oh, _fuck,_ ” Richie gasps out, right as Zhina begins to pull him up. They stop instantly, her hands shifting to his shoulders to hold him steady as Richie starts to suck in desperate breath after breath.

Frantically, Eddie tugs on Richie’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, what’s wrong?” he demands.

“If you’re in pain, we can get a doctor in here—”

Richie shakes his head vehemently.

“Is he okay?” Bill asks, from the other side of Eddie. “R-R-Richie, what’s wrong?”

“Chill out, you bastards,” Richie gasps. With his free hand, he pushes at the tethers around his chest. “Just trying to get used to real gravity again. This shit is _intense_.”

Mike lets out a startled laugh that bounces around the metal interior. In all honesty, Eddie had forgotten that practically everyone was still on the carrier with them. “Someone get that asshole off this ship before he starts his stand-up special, please,” Mike calls.

“You _wish_ you could all hang around for my stand-up,” Richie says. He sucks in another sharp breath when Zhina pulls him forward. In a moment, she’ll walk him to the door where the rest of the ground crew will help him out and across the bridge. In a moment, they’re going to make Eddie let go of him and probably send him back to Eddie’s panel of doctors who will take over his case before Eddie can even finish getting unlatched from his seat himself. He can feel it when Richie must realize it, too, because right as Richie says, “Eddie—”

Eddie is already saying, “Can we go together?”

Richie sags in relief against Zhina, who doesn’t even flinch at the sudden weight. She catches Eddie’s eye then, for a fraction of a second, her gaze drops down to their interlocked hands. With another surge of protectiveness coursing through him, Eddie continues, “Let me go with him, take me off at the same time. I’ll stay with him. I, um, have to meet with the medical crew waiting for him anyway.”

“Dr. Kaspbrak…” she starts.

“Please,” Richie whispers. For that moment, his tone is so strikingly un-Richie-like that Eddie worries the whole world has tilted off its axis. Eddie’s heart is in his throat. He wonders if Zhina can see that when she looks back at him again.

Zhina’s eyes are kind. After a moment, she gives a small nod. The ground crew member that was standing directly behind her shifts forward, squeezing between the space to get to Eddie’s tethers. He holds onto Richie while he’s being unlatched and when the ground crew member takes his helmet off, and he holds onto Richie when the ground crew helps him out of his chair, and he still holds onto Richie as they are slowly shuffled forward with the assistance of multiple people.

Richie steps into the blinding sunlight first. Eddie still doesn’t let go.

“Richie Tozier,” says a voice from the bridge. “I believe I owe you a drink.”

“Oh, is _that_ the promise you made me?” Richie asks, sounding breathless and awestruck. Eddie realizes with a start that Richie has just caught sight of real, true green for the first time in a very long time. Richie is looking at the _Earth_ and it is welcoming him back with open arms. Eddie has one second to get choked up, eyes filling with tears, before Richie tugs on his hand again and in the next moment Eddie is pulled into the sunlight, too.

Mitch Henderson claps a hand on Richie’s shoulder, beaming from ear to ear. He shakes Eddie’s free hand. His grin doesn’t diminish at all. “Dr. Kaspbrak. Welcome back as well. I’m sure you’ll be joining us for that drink.”

“I’m sorry but you’ll have to give him at least a year, Director,” Eddie says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “He’s going to be on a strict diet until he’s in full health again.”

“Jesus, must you disclose my medical info to anyone who spares you a glance?” Richie mutters.

“Want me to shout it as we cross the bridge?” Eddie deadpans. “Maybe hire a skywriter to spell it out for literally anyone to see? Publish it in a memoir and read it out loud to prospective botany students? Shut the fuck up, Richie. Sorry, Director.”

“I’ll let it slide,” Mitch says easily. “If we take any more steps forward, the crowd out there is going to be able to see you. Are you ready for that, Rich?”

“Probably not,” Richie says honestly, “but hey, what the fuck, right? Let’s give those assholes a show. Richie Tozier, back from the dead, regaling stories about the afterlife on Mars and how he communicated with his old crew by using applesauce to write on walls. Tune in tonight on CBS.”

“Beep, beep,” Eddie sighs, but there is no pretending he isn’t smiling from ear to ear.

Richie steps forward, tugging Eddie with him as he shows the world he’s home, and Eddie still doesn’t let go.

The cheers start up before Eddie catches sight of the crowd. It throws him for a moment, the realization that there are people here cheering for _him._ Groups of strangers he has never met who are relieved he made it home safe. And perhaps more tangibly, there are groups of strangers out there who celebrate victoriously at the sight of Richie, stepping off of the shuttle carrier with a thin face and bags under his eyes and a sheepish smile on his face. He is not the same person he was when he left and these people don’t know him, not really, but Eddie can practically taste the joy in the air when he opens his mouth to gasp for breath.

Richie Tozier: back from the dead. Home at last. How different would today have gone, if things were different? If five hundred and thirty three days ago, the crew hadn’t made the choice to turn around? Would the crowd have been somber, knowing that this crew was one member short and that coming home without him couldn't feel like a success? How would Eddie have kept _breathing_ at all? He thinks he’d be stuck to the floor, rooted in place, unable to get off of the shuttle if it hadn’t been for Richie’s hand pulling him forward. He knows he would have mocked their celebrations.

Instead, he cheers alongside them. He holds Richie’s hand and lets it say to the world, _“Here he is. I didn’t bring him home for you but he is here for you anyway. This is the man I moved the cosmos for. This is the man I would tear galaxies apart for. You will never take him away from me again.”_

Richie’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment as the crowd calls out his name, and Eddie has to tamper down the wave of emotion that threatens to split his face. Richie raises his free hand in a half-wave. They only have a moment to overlook the crowd before the ground crew begins ushering them forward and down the short flight of stairs.

Eddie’s feet hit the pavement. He stops for a moment, stares down at the ground in surprise, and a half-hysterical laugh bubbles out of his mouth. His feet in Earth’s soil for the first time in a very long two years.

A few feet away, Beverly’s aunts pull her into a crushing hug, both of them looking like they don’t plan to let go anytime soon. There’s an exuberant shout from somewhere on the tarmac, and Eddie looks up just in time to see Patty Uris sprinting across the pavement and launching herself into Stan’s arms, crying as she holds him upright and strokes his face. Eddie knows he should be looking for the Denbroughs, since it’s them that will be there for him in addition to being there for Bill, but instead his eyes catch on the woman rushing across the tarmac towards them.

Richie looks _just_ like his mother, Eddie realizes with a start.

“Rich,” he whispers, tugging on Richie’s hand, and Richie turns almost in slow motion.

He catches sight of her at the same time that she calls out his name, voice frantic as she says, “ _Richie,_ my baby, _oh—_ ”

Richie’s gasp is startled and pained, and when he steps forward he takes Eddie with him but they only make it one step before Maggie Tozier is there in front of them and Richie is sagging into her arms. Her arms wrap tightly around him, encompassing him fully; he’s got his face buried in her neck and one arm wrapped around her waist and one hand still clinging tightly to Eddie, not letting go.

“Ma, _Mama,_ ” Richie gasps. His shoulders shake with a sob. Richie has got to have at least five inches on his mother but it doesn’t seem to matter, she holds him like she’s still the little boy she used to hold in her arms every night when he was younger.

Eddie’s throat feels thick looking at the both of them.

Maggie Tozier cries and pets Richie’s hair and holds him up as he sags against her, caught between her embrace and his unwavering grip on Eddie. He’s not sure how long he stands there, watching their reunion, before Maggie Tozier finally raises her head enough to lock eyes with him. Her eyes are brown, unlike Richie’s, but the expression she wears on her face is one Eddie has seen on Richie more times than he knows how to count.

“You must be Dr. Kaspbrak,” Maggie murmurs. Somehow she manages to pull Eddie towards her too, including him in the embrace, and the second her arm goes around him he can feel himself break down in sobs. “Thank you for bringing my baby home, Eddie.”

Eddie thinks back to eighteen months ago, when he had been certain that Richie was gone and still hadn’t found a name for his grief yet. He thinks back to the unfinished letter he began, something to give Maggie and Wentworth Tozier to explain how he left their son behind. He thinks of the words that didn’t get any farther than _“I loved him too much to let him go and leaving damn near killed me”_ and he thinks, now, how desperately happy he is that he never needed to finish that letter.

He tries to tell Maggie that he’d do it again, a hundred times over, a thousand times more, just to have Richie’s hand in his in this moment right now, but the words get stuck in his throat. There’s so much he wants to say, to Maggie and to Richie and to the reporters capturing this moment for the whole world to see and to Mitch Henderson and to all the people from NASA who made Richie’s return home possible. There are a thousand things he could say and a million ways he could say it and there is one pressing thing that Eddie knows he should say more than any of them, and despite all of that he can’t find the words he needs right now. None of it matters, anyway, as Maggie holds onto him and lets him keep holding Richie’s hand.

Eddie had anticipated over a thousand different ways they could have died out there, and they defied all the odds. He feels great pride in his crew and in himself, and there is cheering on the tarmac that reminds him that there are people all over the world who feel great pride in him too, and for a moment it feels almost as good as Richie being here pressed against his side.

Soon they will have to go inside and get examined, and Richie will be taken away and tested and tested and tested again, and Eddie will be screened and tested and cleared and Richie will probably need surgery and Eddie will be allowed to leave and Richie won’t, and at some point Eddie is going to have to let go of his hand. At some point they are going to finally get the crew out of the EVA suits and Eddie is going to have to let go.

At some point, he’s going to fly home to New York and he is going to have to let Richie go.

Not yet, though, he decides. He can hold onto Richie’s hands for just a little while longer. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> did you guys know that literally four months has passed since the clown movie came out. what the fuck. anyway clearly i'm STILL not over it  
> ANYWAY HI HELLO! v excited to be back, i hope you guys feel the same. it's been a pretty crazy month (HOW HAS IT BEEN A MONTH!!!) with nursing school well under way and with going back to work this week. i'm hoping to get into a rhythm soon that doesn't make me feel like my head is constantly spinning so i'm balancing the craziness of my life by sitting down in front of a computer and saying 'yeah i have time to write' when i maybe probably actually don't. that being said, i'm hoping to have the next chapter up in about a week, if all goes to plan!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are all literally so sweet i can't even tell you how many people messaged me to make sure i'm taking care of myself I PROMISE I AM. <3 ily all.
> 
> warnings for this chapter include a lot a lot a LOT of medical jargon and talks about recovery, trauma, and surgery, so please take care of yourself as needed while reading. also bear in mind that this is a fanfic and i am not a doctor nor am i an astronaut so probably is any of this credible? no. but is it a work of fiction? yes. i did a lot of research because i'm a NERD but still i don't know anything WE'RE JUST TRYING OUR BEST HERE LADS.
> 
> anyway before we get into the chapter please please PLEASE go give some love to the amazing and beautiful [cover](https://honeyreynolds.tumblr.com/post/190213955468/cover-for-let-me-name-the-stars-for-you-by) that gene made for part one of this story, i've been crying over it all morning. EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU GENE. also THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATING TO GENE SINCE I PUBLISHED IT ON THEIR BIRTHDAY. THE LEAST I COULE DO FOR A LITERAL ANGEL. EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY GENE

black·hole | _noun_

  1. a large, massive star that has run out of fuel and collapsed in on itself having a gravitational field so intense that no matter or radiation can escape.
  2. a place where people or things disappear without a trace.



  
  
  
  
  


PATIENT NAME: RICHARD W. TOZIER

AGE: 39

SEX: MALE

BP: 89/56

PR: 42

RR: 14

TP: 37.8

DIAGNOSIS: 

  
  
  
  
  


**[ AUGUST 7, 2037 ]**

“Sorry, wait. I need fucking _what_?”

The doctor doesn’t even blink. “A lung transplant, sir.”

“Fucking—” Richie wheezes. His hand grasps uselessly at the air as he tries to find the words he wants to say. “You’re fucking telling me I got stranded on another goddamn planet, I was completely isolated for _five hundred days,_ I broke multiple ribs and am severely malnourished, but the most pressing concern is that I need a fucking _lung transplant_? If you tell me it’s from smoking cigarettes when I was a teenager, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

“It’s called pulmonary fibrosis,” the doctor explains. “It’s a complication that can occur as a result of severe pneumonia, which Dr. Kaspbrak informs me was a diagnosis you had for the majority of your flight home on the _Hermes._ It could also be a result of exposure to Martian dust or fibers. The tissues in your lungs have been damaged and scarred, making it harder for oxygen to pass into your lung stream. A transplant is not your only option, but due to your prolonged exposure to unknown radiation on Mars, I would say that it is our safest bet and your best chance at survival.”

Richie grabs a fistful of the blanket covering his legs, mouth opening and closing uselessly a few times as he tries to wrap his head around it. “Sorry, ma’am, I’m just gonna need a few minutes to wrap my mind around this.”

“We have put you on the transplant list and estimate that we’ll be able to perform the transplant sometime this week,” the doctor tells him. “You are a high-priority case, and I assure you that NASA has put forth quite an effort to ensure you are receiving the best quality care here. We will be monitoring you closely since you are also at risk for pulmonary hypertension or possibly heart failure.”

“Heart failure?” Richie repeats, incredulous. “Jee- _zuz_ , Doc, is there anything I’m not at risk for?”

The doctor gives him a faint smile. “We’ve ruled out radiation poisoning.”

Richie throws his hands up in the air. “What a goddamn miracle.”

The doctor reaches forward and grasps his hand, stopping him from grasping uselessly at the sheets. Richie looks her in the eyes. “Richie, I know this is scary,” she says, “and if you want to talk about other options besides a lung transplant, we can. But I do believe this is your best shot at survival.”

Richie tightens his grip. “How cliche is it if I ask you how long I’d have without the transplant?” he jokes.

“Assuming that no other complications occur, I would estimate that you have about eighteen months before the scar tissue becomes so thick it becomes near impossible to breathe,” the doctor says gently.

Richie laughs weakly. “Did Eddie tell you that the pneumonia I got was because of my broken ribs? ‘Cause I wouldn’t take deep enough breaths, it hurt too bad, so I caught pneumonia while we were out there since I refused to breathe normal. Can you believe that fucking broken ribs can cause this much damage?”

“Dr. Kaspbrak has requested to see you today, if you feel up for visitors,” she tells him, patting his hand one last time before she stands. “I’m sure he’ll read over your chart the second he gets in here, if you let him in. That man has been yelling at us ever since he gathered us all together.”

Richie sighs. “That sounds like the Eds I know and love. Has he told you that you’re a bunch of idiots yet? I’m just warning you that’s gonna happen, like, at least six more times if he hasn’t already said it.”

The doctor smiles tiredly. “Yes, it’s one of Dr. Kaspbrak’s very affectionate nicknames for the staff that he himself assembled. Should I tell him you’re ready to see him?”

“He’s gonna come in whether I say yes or not, so you might as well,” Richie says with a shrug, pointedly ignoring the way his heart skips a beat in his chest. “Hey, does it say I’ll need surgery in my chart? He’s probably going to shit himself if he reads that.”

The doctor grimaces. “It does,” she says, and without another word, she leaves the room.

“Yeesh,” Richie mutters. “Leaving me to the wolves.”

He’s not sure how much time has passed since they touched back down on Earth, everything becoming a blur of sights he never thought he’d get to see again and touches he didn’t think he’d get to feel again. At some point they had taken him off the tarmac and rushed him back for test after test. He’s not quite sure when he stopped holding onto Eddie.

He hasn’t seen Eddie since.

He hasn’t seen _anybody_ since. Richie is pretty sure that it’s been at least a day, since he feels more rested than he has in a long time and since the sun is currently shining through the slatted blinds covering the window. He knows that NASA procedure requires every astronaut go under testing and recovery once landing but he isn’t sure what the other’s tests looked like in comparison to him.

It dawns on Richie, perhaps for the first time since this entire mess started, that he survived something possibly no one else could have. He joked, once, about being a medical marvel that the doctors on Earth could not wait to get their hands on, but he supposes now there’s a truthful weight to that statement that he had never considered before. There’s a good chance he’s going to be here for a while; definitely longer than the rest of the crew. Hell, there’s a good chance that the lasting side effects from one year of life exposure on Mars will kill him.

Richie swallows around the lump in his throat, desperately trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. He knows it won’t do him any good, and if he looks like he’s freaking out when Eddie comes in, it’ll just serve to freak him out as well.

He curls his fingers in his bedsheets and squeezes his eyes closed. Forces himself to count to four, count to seven, inhale, exhale, until the panic doesn’t feel like it’s banging on his chest and demanding to be heard.

The door swings open.

Richie looks up.

Eddie’s face softens instantly, as soon as he catches sight of Richie. His wheelchair is pushed by Georgie Denbrough, and Richie can’t stop the startled laugh that breaks out of him when he catches sight of Georgie for the first time in two years.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathes. “Georgie?”

“Good to see you again, Richie!” Georgie says happily. He pushes Eddie’s wheelchair to the foot of Richie’s bed, where Eddie immediately grabs for Richie’s chart and starts skimming through it. Richie’s heart swells at the sight of it, somewhat pathetically. There’s something almost calming about Eddie’s consistency in the face of all this impending change.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie demands. He doesn’t look up from the chart.

“Much better now that I got my eyes on you, Dr. K,” Richie answers, voice saccharine and dripping with sincerity. “How are _you_ feeling?”

Eddie’s gaze snaps up at that. Richie feels breathless, just from the way Eddie is looking at him right now. “I’m okay,” Eddie says softly. He matches Richie’s soft smile, almost like he’s unaware he’s doing it, before his gaze drops back to Richie’s chart. “Rich, it says they put you on the transplant list.”

“Wait, what?” Georgie asks.

Richie shrugs. “I have shitty lungs,” he says. “We knew that before I went up, though, I mean. It was pretty fucking stupid of me to spend my twenties smoking. I practically brought this on myself.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie snaps. “Pulmonary fibrosis? _Fuck._ I should have considered that possibility while we were on the _Hermes,_ maybe I could have given you different medication…”

Richie frowns. “Eddie, Eds, whoa, what the fuck? Don’t go blaming this on yourself, what the hell, man? This is, like, a thousand percent my fault, dude. Plus we had limited resources on the _Hermes,_ what the hell could you have done differently besides invent a new medicine? Jesus, I mean, dude, you’re probably the only reason my lungs didn’t crap out at all while we were coming back.”

Eddie catches his gaze again, expression unwavering. There is an intensity in his look that makes something warm spread through Richie’s veins rapidly. Richie thinks, perhaps hysterically, that there’s a joke to be made about his shitty lungs and Eddie’s ability to constantly take his breath away just by existing.

“They really think transplant is the best option?” Eddie asks. “What about medication? Oxygen therapy? I mean, there’s a lot of treatments for PF that don’t include a _brand new_ set of lungs and the risk factors that come with that.”

Richie shrugs again. “Dr. Herrera said it’s probably my best shot since all of my organs were exposed to a ton of shit on Mars that we can’t even begin to understand.”

Eddie’s shoulders drop. He puts the chart back down and scrubs at his face with his hands. “That makes sense,” he admits. “I don’t fucking like it, though. Lung transplants are hard to come by, Rich, and even then there’s a constant risk of infection or rejection. I mean, you’re looking at months of recovery for the transplant on _top_ of months of recovery for everything else. You have a long road ahead of you.”

“I have a good support system,” Richie says surely. He knows without a doubt that the crew has his back and will help him going forward. He wouldn’t be here without them, this he _knows_ down to his DNA. He has no doubt that they will have his back in this, too.

Eddie’s face breaks into a gentle smile. “I finally got to meet your parents. They seem really cool.”

Richie’s heart bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he breathes. In the midst of everything, he’d forgotten that his parents were here. He had forgotten, somehow, that he had practically fallen into the embrace of his mother the second he had climbed off of that carrier. He had forgotten that he had clung to his father in a way he hadn’t since he was a little boy. Somewhere in this building, his parents are waiting for him.

Somewhere in this building, all of his friends are waiting for him, too.

It’s overwhelming, overcoming him in an instant—the weight of knowing both of his families are all here, everyone he loves under one roof and here to support him in ways none of them even realize yet. All of these people that, for a moment there on Mars, he thought he would never see again.

Richie starts to cry.

He feels circular, thoughts going back to the same place over and over again as he tries to wrap his head around the reality that he is back on Earth. He knows he is going through the same emotions, the same thoughts, the same realizations. He wonders how many more times it will take before it sinks in.

“Richie?” Eddie demands, as soon as he starts to cry. Georgie wheels him closer and Eddie grips Richie’s wrist. “Rich, what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Georgie, can you go get a doctor or a nurse?”

Richie shakes his head. “You all did so much to bring me back,” he chokes out. “What the _fuck_ was it all for?”

Eddie furrows his brow. His free hand twitches, like he wants to reach forward but is too afraid to. Richie wants to tell him it’s okay. “Because we care about you, idiot,” he says gently. “Richie, of _course_ we did everything we could. It was for _you._ Any one of us would do it again.”

Richie laughs wetly. “I don’t know, I think Stan is sick of my jokes.”

“Yeah, he’d probably drive you back to Mars himself if he had the opportunity,” Eddie allows. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Rich, are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s the question of the century, Richie thinks. Something people are going to be asking him until the day he dies, most likely. He is going to be the astronaut who survived alone on Mars for as long as history can remember him by.

“I’m so fucking famous,” Richie breathes out. “They’re gonna make so many fucking movies about me. Hey, Eds. Eddie.”

Eddie sighs, looking skeptical about the rapid subject changes and apprehensive, probably because he anticipates Richie to make another joke. Despite it all, he still says, “Yes, Richie.”

“Can we open the blinds?” Richie asks, voice smaller than he meant for it to be.

“Oh,” Eddie whispers, surprised. He glances at the window before looking back at Richie. “Of course. Georgie, can you…?”

“Yeah, of course!” Georgie says, hurrying to the window. He opens the blinds slowly, giving them time to adjust.

Sunlight fills the room, bright and brilliant. It catches in the glass vase on the table next to Richie’s bed. It fills the corners of the room that Richie hadn’t even noticed before. It catches in Eddie’s hair, and it illuminates Georgie’s bright smile.

Outside, the world is green and blue and grey and white and there is no red that Richie can see, not for as far as his eyes will allow him to look. There are buildings and tarmacs and grass and trees and Houston is not his home but it is _home_ and all that matters is that Richie is close enough he can almost touch it.

“Like, fuck Texas, but isn’t that the prettiest fucking sight you’ve ever seen?” Richie asks.

Eddie glances between him and the window, nodding to himself. “It’s pretty damn close,” he murmurs.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**VOICE MEMO, Untitled 1: Aug 9, 2037 at 17:32:01**

_“So. I just met Dr. Shields for the first time face to face. I have multiple doctors telling me that it’ll be important for me to establish some kind of relationship with her before I undergo the transplant, which I think is a sack of shit since we don’t even have a date for the transplant yet, but I’m not a psychologist or a doctor, so what the fuck do I know? Okay, I mean, I am a doctor, but if you ask Eddie my PhD doesn’t count, only his MD does. Again, I think that’s bullshit, but hey. I’d let that guy get away with murder so I guess I can allow him this, too.”_

[There’s a shaky breath over the recording. Faintly, in the background, the sound of a hospital monitor steadily beeping can be heard.]

_“Anyway. Dr. Shields told me it might be good for me to stay in the habit of talking to myself. That’s not how she phrased it, but that’s basically what it is. I had a routine on Mars: try to survive, record myself trying to survive, survive. She said that the act of continuing that habit while adjusting to being back here might help trick my brain receptors into being okay before I have a psychotic breakdown. Again, those weren’t her exact words, but I’m a paraphraser. So I’m trying it out. I did something similar on the Hermes. They had me write in journals. It helped, but Dr. Shields thinks this will help more. I’ve been told that I got caught multiple times talking out loud on the Hermes but no one ever said anything to me about it then. Bastards. I love them a lot.”_

[He laughs breathily before it gets cut off with a cough.]

_“Fuck me. I never realized how bad this whole cough thing was until they told me the warranty on my lungs was about to expire. This shit hurts.”_

[There’s another pause and some rustling, and an indiscernible curse under his breath before he talks again.]

_“I did some research. Lung transplants are super, super rare, apparently. The technology has gotten a lot better in the last twenty years, meaning more people survive and medications have been created that lower the risk of rejection, but it’s still a pretty rare surgery for people to undergo. The waiting list is ridiculously long. Some people wait for years. I’ve been told, though, that I’m a high-profile case, which means that the second a match becomes available, it’s coming to me instead of some poor schmuck who has been waiting for seven years. Makes me kind of feel like an asshole, but also, I survived on a planet completely by myself. I kind of feel like I’ve earned this.”_

[He coughs again, and then there’s a long sigh over the recording.]

_“Worst part about all of this? At the end of the day, the rest of the crew is technically cleared to go home, and I’ll still be stuck here. It’s going to be super fucking annoying being here all by myself. Fuck. I’m gonna miss them so fucking much.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  


**FULL TRANSCRIPT: Teddy Sanders’ Update on Richard Tozier, NASA Astronaut**

_Sanders, Chief Director for NASA, addresses the public with a short announcement regarding the health and status of astronaut Richard Tozier of Ares III, on August 10th, 2037._

(Transcript provided via the New York Times)

SANDERS: Thank you. Thank you, please take your seats. Thank you. As you are aware, the _Ares III_ crew arrived safely home four days ago, bringing home all seven members of the _Ares III_ mission. As I am sure you can imagine, the crew has spent the last four days under the very watchful eye of NASA’s best doctors as we examine every aspect of their physical health as they adjust to being back home. I can confirm that astronauts Marsh, Denbrough, Hanlon, Uris, Hanscom, and Kaspbrak are all in outstanding health and have been cleared to return to their home by their doctors. I can also confirm that astronaut Richard Tozier is being held, now, for further tests and examinations due to his prolonged exposure on Mars. Our doctors expect he will make a full recovery.

HESS (NBC): Dr. Sanders, is it true that Tozier will be undergoing chemotherapy treatments as doctors fear he may have developed a type of cancer from the atmosphere on Mars?

SANDERS: That is false. As of right now, our medical staff has not found concern for anything cancerous in Richie Tozier’s body. They have also ruled out radiation poisoning.

MENDOZA (ABC): Can you address the rumors that Dr. Tozier has been added to a transplant list?

SANDERS: I can confirm that that information is correct. Richie is on the waiting list for a lung transplant. It should be any day now.

MENDOZA (ABC): You said before that your doctors anticipate he will make a full recovery. Is this factoring in the lung transplant? Can they say with full confidence that he will survive this surgery, especially considering everything else his body has gone through on Mars?

SANDERS: Are there doctors out there that can guarantee a full recovery? Is there anyone that can make that promise? No, Ms. Mendoza, I’m afraid our doctors cannot say with full confidence that he will survive, but I can reassure you that NASA has done everything we can to assemble the best doctors for this case. Richie Tozier survived unthinkable conditions, completely on his own, on Mars. There is no doubt in my mind, personally, that he will not fight just as hard now that he is home.

SMITH (FOX): Dr. Sanders, what can you say about the rumors that a trial is underway regarding Commander Marsh and her choice to abandon—

SANDERS: I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no. No more questions. Thank you for your time.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ AUGUST 11, 2037 ]**

“Go fish,” Richie says. Eddie scowls and draws another card from the pile.

“I th-thought we were going to p-p-play poker,” Bill whines, from his spot on the chair by the window. He glares halfheartedly at his cards.

Richie shrugs. “None of us have any money, Billy Boy, we just got back to earth. They haven’t given us back our wallets yet. Haystack, got any threes?”

Ben swears under his breath and hands his threes over. Richie smiles smugly.

“Richie’s a damn liar, he just doesn’t know how to play poker,” Beverly says. She nudges his leg with her toes and sticks her tongue out when he gives her an affronted look. “Plus, he’s five at heart, and Go Fish is a game for five year olds.”

“I resent that,” Richie says. “Beverly, give me all your queens.”

Beverly sighs. “How do you _do_ that?”

“I’m five at heart,” Richie parrots back. “Mikey, do you have any queens?”

“Go fish,” Mike says. Richie groans and takes the card Eddie hands him from the middle of the pile. “Stan, you’re up.”

Stan sighs, looking up from his puzzle. He picks up his own discarded cards and looks at them, bored. “Hm. Richie, I’ll take those queens you just took from Bev.”

“Rat bastard!” Richie cries, but he hands them over anyway. “He wasn’t even paying attention, how did he know!”

Stan lays down the cards. “It’s called multitasking, Rich. Most astronauts are pretty good at it. Then again, we know NASA didn’t do half as many tests for you as they did for the rest of us. They just hired you for comic relief.”

Richie flutters his eyelashes. “Stan, you think I’m funny!”

“Go fish,” he deadpans back. “Bill, do you have any kings?”

“Go fish,” Bill says. “W-w-why are we even playing this again?”

“Richie wanted company,” Richie says. He fidgets with the cards in his hands and doesn’t look up. “And you guys give me anything I want because you’re afraid I’m gonna, like, have a mental breakdown. Even though Dr. Shields says I’m coping remarkably well. But I could have told you I would, there’s a _lot_ of things I do remarkably well—”

“Beep, beep,” Beverly says. Richie gives her a betrayed look. “I know the mission is over but for the love of god, honey, please do not say that in front of your commander.”

“Oh, _sure,_ now the Commander cares about what I say in front of her,” Richie mutters, but he mimes zipping his lips shut and shoots Beverly a playful wink.

“We’re happy to keep you company, Rich,” Ben says, patting the top of Richie’s foot since it’s the only thing he can reach. “But you’re going to have to learn how to play poker if you’re going to force us to play card games with you.”

Richie laughs.

“Eddie, do you have any f-f-f-fours?” Bill asks. Eddie groans and hands his cards over.

“You’re exceptionally bad at this, Eddie,” Stan comments, attention already back to his puzzle. His phone buzzes twice on the table next to him, and Richie watches as he glances at it and smiles privately to himself. Patty, Richie guesses. He wonders if he could get Patty to come visit him, too.

“I fucking hate all of you,” Eddie mutters.

“You could go home,” Richie reminds him. “You have a clean bill of health. I’m sure your coworkers at Columbia are eagerly awaiting your return, Dr. K.”

Eddie scowls. His cheeks go pink. “Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere until you get to go somewhere, Rich, we’ve already had this talk. I’m not leaving you. Stop fucking trying to tell me it’s okay, I don’t even _want_ to.”

Beverly sighs and shakes her head. She ignores Richie’s pointedly confused look.

“We’re all staying,” Mike says, repeating the statement Richie has heard countless times since the whole crew was cleared except for him a few days ago. “You know we have your back, Richie.”

“If you assholes make me cry while I’m strapped to this hospital bed and can’t run away, I’ll murder all of you in your sleep,” Richie says. He’s grateful that no one comments on the way his voice cracks as he talks. “And we’re in a hospital, there’s a lot of ways I could murder all of you in your sleep.”

“It’s a NASA hospital, dipshit, which means there’s security guards everywhere.”

“Your lack of faith in me to charm security guards into letting me pass is a hit below the belt,” Richie says seriously.

“Richie, do you have any jacks?” Ben asks.

“Motherfucker,” Richie says, with feeling, and he hands his cards to Eddie to hand to Ben.

There’s a knock on the door before it opens.

Dr. Herrera doesn’t even look surprised to see everyone piled into Richie’s room. She does sigh, though, when she catches sight of Beverly’s legs propped up against the Bed and Eddie sitting at the foot of it. Richie gives her a sheepish grin. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Glad to see that you’re in good company, still, Richie,” Dr. Herrera says. “I guess they do say it takes a village.”

Richie shrugs. “My mom and dad are around, somewhere. They just don’t need to put up with this circus. I think they thought that when I got older, I’d stop acting like an idiot with my friends, but I think it’s only gotten worse with age.”

“I didn’t know Richie as a kid, but I will second that,” Stan says solemnly. There are various nods around the room.

“You assholes,” Richie says fondly. “These are my best friends in the whole universe, Doc.”

She smiles. “Well, best friends in the whole universe, I’m afraid I’m going to need you to clear the room. Richie, it’s time.”

Richie’s heart stops working for a moment.

Next to Richie, Eddie’s cards drop out of his hands.

“It’s time?” Richie repeats, faintly.  
  


“You’re serious?” Eddie demands. “They found lungs? He’s getting a transplant today? Are you fucking serious?”

Dr. Herrera looks right at Eddie. “I’m fucking serious,” she repeats, and Richie lets out a startled laugh.

“Holy shit,” he gasps out. “Doc, I apologize for my guard dog. Holy fuck. Sorry, give us all a second here, I think that we weren’t expecting this to happen, like. At all. And it’s happening? It’s happening _today_?”

“Right now,” Dr. Herrera confirms. She opens the door again and two nurses filter in, coming to Richie’s side and prepping the bed for transport. “Unless you have any reason to stay behind.”

Beverly lifts her legs and stands, patting Richie on the arm as she passes to go to the other side of the room. His friends all gather in one corner, trying to take up as little space as possible. Except for Eddie, who doesn’t move from his spot at Richie’s feet, instead turning to give Richie a frantic look. “Are you ready for this?” Eddie asks.

“Born ready,” Richie says. Eddie scoffs.

“Can you be serious?” he snaps. “Richie, this is a really big surgery. I’m not letting you go in there unless you’re, like, a thousand percent positive you are going to survive. Are you going to survive?”

“Jesus Christ,” Richie mutters. “Dr. Herrera, am I going to survive?”

Dr. Herrera nods. “Dr. Chaudhry and I are the best transplant specialists in the country,” she promises Eddie.

Richie looks back at him. “Hear that, guard dog? I got the best of the best on my side. I have this. I promise. Do _you_ have this? I mean, seriously, Eds, you look like you’re gonna bite someone’s head off.”

Eddie stands up, looking unsure of himself as he does so. He takes a few pacing steps along the side of Richie’s bed. After a moment, he finally stops, and there’s a weighty decision darting across his expression for a moment. Richie opens his mouth to ask him about it, to tease him about it, but whatever he had been ready to say dies in his throat when Eddie leans forward and presses a faint kiss to the top of his head.

“Don’t die,” Eddie says. His cheeks and ears are pink. Richie’s whole soul feels like it’s been set on fire. “I’ll see you in recovery when you’re out. Seriously, Rich. Don’t die.”

“No death,” Richie promises, voice faint. The nurses begin to wheel him forward. On the other side of the room, everyone else blows him a kiss as well. They all hold to each other. Beverly wraps her arms around Eddie when he finally goes to join her. “I love you guys.”

“We love you,” Beverly says back.

“Yeah,” Stan agrees. “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

Richie cracks a smile. “Can’t have that happen, now, can we, Staniel?”

“He’s fine,” Dr. Herrera promises them all. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Richie closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see their expressions as he’s wheeled away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


NASA ✔️ @NASA · Aug 11

As of this evening, we can confirm that astronaut and U.S. hero @RealRichieTozier is out of surgery and recovering well. More updates to follow.

For a detailed look at Richie Tozier’s journey with NASA, click  here.

186 Replies · 1.7k Retweets · 8.9k Likes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> hello it's only been like two days and i am back already! it's been a pretty uneventful two days since all i've been doing is homework and work and writing so not much of an update there, but i DO want to say that i am blown away by the response i have already gotten to this story like holy shit?? this story has been up for two days (three days? ugh math) and as i type this note my hit counter is already at 805 like what the HELL you guys?? ahh?? i'm just in shock. i love you all thank you for your lovely comments and support. i really just!! thank you thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure i don't know anything about computer coding or uhh lawsuits so lets wave a magic wand over this and pretend it all makes sense mmkay? yes? research only takes me So Far but some things... like coding... just bore me to tears i'm SORRY :(

qua·sar | _noun_

  1. bright beacons that shine from the edges of the visible universe and release more energy than hundreds of galaxies combined.



  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 7, 2037 ]**

It’s sunny, the day that Richie finally leaves Houston.

He blinks when the door opens and raises his hand to block the rays until he realizes with a jolt just how long it’s been since he’s _felt_ the Earth’s sun like this and lowers it back down again. He’s wheeled out of the hospital with his face tipped up towards the sky and his eyes closed. He doesn’t even try to hide the smile on his face.

Richie takes a tentative breath in.

It’s something he hadn’t thought about, when he’d been on the surface, but he had forgotten what it felt like to breathe in real air. There is a distinctive difference between the pure, unfiltered breaths he allows himself to take on the surface of the planet compared to the air that makes living on another planet’s surface possible. He can’t quite place his finger on what it is. Regardless, it’s one more thing he’s thrilled to experience again.

He takes a deeper breath.

“Are you hyperventilating?” Eddie asks, from where he stands immediately to Richie’s right. The doctors had put their foot down when Eddie had insisted on pushing the wheelchair, so Richie’s instead being escorted out of the hospital by a disgruntled nurse who keep shooting dirty looks at Eddie and sympathetic looks at Richie’s parents.

Richie sighs, and privately relishes in the way that it doesn’t even hurt to do so anymore. It has been a long month of recovery from just the transplant, and he is _relieved_ in the way he can almost breathe normal again.

Normal, of course, is about to become relative. For his transplant alone, he’ll have appointments at least once every week for the next two months and then every six weeks for the rest of his life. All of this just to make sure he doesn’t reject his new lungs, which Richie is already exhausted by.

“I’m not hyperventilating, I’m breathing in real authentic Earth air,” Richie says, like he’s explaining something to a kid. Eddie narrows his eyes. “You would know what real authentic Earth air tasted like if you ever left my bedside, Eds Spagheds.”

“Maggie,” Eddie whines.

Maggie pats Richie’s shoulder gently. “Richie, don’t be rude to your friends,” she says sternly, winking at Eddie and everything. Those two have become fast friends, much to Went’s amusement and Richie’s chagrin. Richie slumps in his seat; behind him, he’s certain the nurse gives Maggie and Wentworth another sympathetic look.

“He started it,” Richie mutters.

“What are you, five?” Eddie asks.

“You’re all five,” the nurse says, exasperated. “Alright, Richie, this car is you. Are you ready to get up?”

Richie looks at the nurse skeptically. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“He’s ready,” Maggie says. “Do you _want_ to go home, like, ever, kid?”

Richie shrugs noncommittally, despite the fact that _going home_ has been the only thought on his mind ever since he woke up from surgery and watched from his hospital bed as all of his friends slowly had to go back to their own homes. “It hasn’t been all that terrible here.”

He resolutely does _not_ look at Eddie, because he’s not _that_ cliche, but Went calls him out on it anyway. “You can flirt with Eddie anywhere, son, it doesn’t have to be at this hospital. We’re taking you home.”

“ _Dad,_ oh my god,” Richie mutters.

“Does he call this flirting?” Eddie asks. There’s a hint of laughter in his voice, teasing and lilting, and so startlingly _Eddie_ that for a second Richie is convinced the wind has been knocked right out of him again. He turns and blinks owlishly at Eddie, unable to do anything but stare at him like he’s been struck dumb, as Eddie continues, “Where’d he learn it from?”

“Went,” Maggie says, at the same time that Wentworth says, “Me.”

Richie doesn’t need to look at his parents to know they’re both grinning dopily at each other. They’ve been married for 45 years and they still look at each other like lovestruck teenagers. If Richie wasn’t desperately romantic himself, he’d probably be more put out by the whole thing.

The nurse helps Richie out of his wheelchair and into the car. Richie waves halfheartedly at the NASA-hired driver who will take them all the short distance from NASA’s private hospital to NASA’s private tarmac, then they’ll all board the plane that will take them all back to California.

Well. All of them except Eddie.

Because Eddie has to go to New York now.

Richie’s trying not to think about it.

Eddie frets over Richie’s seatbelt for a solid five minutes, and Richie knows it for fact because he counts it out in his head. Eddie looks at Richie like he’s daring Richie to say something about it. All Richie can do is give him a dopey grin back.

He supposes if anyone calls him out in it, he can blame it on the drugs.

Eddie sits right next to him in the middle seat, looking hilariously out of place with his legs pulled close to his chest in the limited space. Richie pokes his knee and says, “How’s the middle seat, Eds?”

“Fuck off,” Eddie sighs.

Richie pokes him again and grins when Eddie slaps his hand away. It’s all so painfully childish that Richie knows he should almost be embarrassed, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. “The middle seat is for the littlest person, Eddie-baby, them's the laws of the road.”

“I fucking hate you,” Eddie hisses. Went lets out a loud sigh from his own spot at the front of the car, next to the driver.

“Technically I should be in the middle then, baby, I’m shorter than Eddie,” Maggie supplies. Richie shoots her a withering glare and, to his surprise, Eddie does the same.

“I’m not moving,” Eddie says quickly.

“Don’t take his side, _Mother_ ,” Richie agrees. God, it’s all so _middle school,_ and Richie is almost up and over the 40-year-old hill but it doesn’t fucking matter because his heart is racing and his chest is warm just from the fact that Eddie wants to _sit by him._

Jesus. He’s gotten even more pathetic since being rescued.

He didn’t think that was even _possible._

The drive is far too short. Richie supposes that’s the benefit of having as much money as NASA does, what with their private hospitals and private jets on sight at Johnson Space Center. If he’s being honest, he’s grateful for the privacy, the small award of anonymity that means he isn’t staring down the faces of cameras and reporters as he travels from airport to airport and hospital to hospital. No one in the world even has to know that he’s finally leaving Houston today.

Still, the shortness of the drive fucking _sucks._

Richie doesn’t feel like he’s had enough time. It feels absurd, and he knows it, because he just had months of uninterrupted time with Eddie by his side on the _Hermes,_ and another month of time with Eddie repeatedly choosing to stay instead of returning back to his own home, but it all feels too soon.

He’s watched all of his friends go back home, and each time it has hurt just the same.

He’s not ready to learn how it feels to watch Eddie go back home, too.

They help Richie slowly out of the car, once the driver parks next to the plane, and Richie doesn’t say anything as they all help him sink into his wheelchair again. Maggie brushes his curls back off his forehead and Wentworth squeezes his hand and Eddie stares hard at the plane like he’s challenging it, daring it to even _think_ about doing something stupid like crashing. These are the people that have stuck by his side relentlessly throughout this entire thing. These are the people he hopes he never has to lose.

“Let’s get me on this plane before Eddie starts inspecting it and deems it unacceptable to take me home,” Richie says with a large sigh. Eddie’s eyes snap to him.

“Are you ready for this?” Eddie demands. 

“Ready to leave your pretty face? Never.”

“Richie,” Eddie sighs, exasperated.

But if Richie’s being honest, it’s the _truth._ He doesn’t know how he can leave Eddie, go back to California with his parents and stay with them while he recovers and only see his friends through a grainy camera on a computer screen. He wasn’t ready when any of them left; not when Bev went back to Chicago, not when Ben left for Nebraska, not when Stan and Patty returned to Atlanta and Mike went with them to the airport before boarding his own flight to Fort Lauderdale, and not when Bill hugged him close and promised that he’d visit Richie as soon as Richie went home before boarding his own plane to Los Angeles with Georgie and his nieces in tow. He wasn’t ready for all of it, and he wasn’t ready for Eddie to stay, and most overwhelmingly of all, he’s _still_ not ready.

“Eds, you gotta stop worrying about me, you’re gonna give yourself wrinkles,” Richie says. He reaches up and smooths out Eddie’s forehead with the pad of his thumb. He drops his hand when Eddie gives him a small, surprised, dopey smile.

“Go to your doctor’s appointments, okay?” Eddie says, when they start to wheel him forward. “Don’t miss a single one. And take your immunosuppressants and antibiotics, and don’t skip doses because you think you’re fine. And _go_ to physical therapy. Do not try to rush it, though, Richie, I swear to god.”

“And FaceTime you every day so you can see my annoying face?” Richie asks. “Jee- _zus,_ Dr. K, I promise I’m not that terrible of a patient. You know, to be honest, I’m surprised you aren’t coming back with us, just so you can keep yelling at me every step of my recovery.”

Eddie’s expression drops. “You know I would,” Eddie says sourly. “But they need me. I need to go check on the research, I have to… I have to check in on my job or I’ll lose it, and I _can’t,_ Richie…”

“Hey, no, no,” Richie says. “I know, Eds, shut the fuck up. I’m just giving you shit, what the hell? You telling me you aren’t used to me giving you shit yet?”

“You can, you know,” Eddie says. “You can FaceTime me every day. If you’re bored. Or if you want me to check on you and make sure you aren’t, like, dying. I’ll be just as rude to you over the phone as I am in person.”

“Oh, baby, you say the sweetest things.”

Eddie sighs, which Richie doesn’t really get to see when they start up the ramp and Eddie has to fall in line behind him. He’s still pretty certain he knows exactly what Eddie’s facial expression is, regardless. “Maggie, Went, just call me if you accidentally smother him to death with a pillow. I know a lot of people who can help you get away with it. It’ll probably be justified, I mean, just listen to him.”

“Oh, son, we’re used to it,” Wentworth says.

“Mostly,” Maggie adds. She pulls on one of Richie’s curls and smirks when he pulls away with a whine. “We raised him, after all. He was just the same when he was a kid.”

“I would have liked to see that,” Eddie says, very seriously.

“Come over some time,” Went suggests. “We can show you all the embarrassing photo albums of Richie’s childhood and questionable fashion choices.”

“First of all, _everyone_ had questionable fashion choices, it was the early 2000s, do not blame those atrocities on the child who knew not what he did,” Richie says. “Also, if you’re going to show Eddie your scrapbooks, Dad, you have to at least make him bring one in return. Fair is fair.”

“I don’t have scrapbooks.”

“Eddie, sadly I never met your mother, but I’m certain—I’m _certain_ —that she kept a shoebox filled with embarrassing pictures of you. And I know you know exactly where it is. Mom, tell him he’s not allowed to visit unless he brings a shoebox of baby Eddie pictures.”

“You can come over whenever you want, sweetheart,” Maggie says. “We have a guest room we can set you up in so you wouldn’t have to worry about a hotel. And Went can pick you up from the airport, any time.”

Richie sighs. “Why do you all hate me?”

His wheelchair comes to a stop when they reach the door. “Richie,” Maggie says. She comes around the wheelchair and crouches down in front of him. “You’ve got to be ready for this next part, because I’m not sticking you on that plane unless you’re ready. Are you ready?”

“Ready to get the fuck out of Texas? Hell yeah,” Richie says. He cranes his neck until he catches eyes with Eddie. “Ready to say goodbye to my crew for the indefinite future? No way in fucking hell.”

“I’ll come visit,” Eddie promises. “And Bill’s out there, pretty close to you. And you know the Commander would drop everything to come to you if you asked. It’s not indefinite, Rich. You’ll see us all again, and soon. Good luck trying to get us to leave you alone, I mean, seriously, dude. You put us all through the ringer there. Of course we’re gonna come visit.”

Richie’s throat feels tight. “You better,” he croaks out. “Cause I’m not allowed to come see you, so you guys are gonna have to make all the effort here.”

“What else is new?” Eddie deadpans. He comes around the wheelchair too and leans down, wrapping his arms gently around Richie’s shoulders. Richie sags into the hug, tightening his arms around Eddie as tightly as he can. Eddie’s breath tickles his neck. “Be safe. Go to your fucking appointments.”

Richie laughs. “I’ll go, I’ll go. Jeez, a little trust would be nice.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Eddie says. He squeezes Richie a little bit and lingers, for another moment, before he finally pulls back. “I just know you also have a tendency to forget things, especially when you’re distracted by reading or video games.”

“I resent that,” Richie says.

“We’ll keep him on track,” Wentworth promises.

Richie watches, as best as he can around the tears that form in his eyes, as Eddie straightens up and hugs both Wentworth and Maggie. Maggie brushes Eddie’s hair back, the same way she does to Eddie, and holds onto him tightly. This is Richie’s family, he thinks, and his other family, and they have meshed seamlessly together. It should hurt, having something that’s so close to the life he wants and yet so far at the same time.

He is in love with Eddie Kaspbrak, sure as the sun rises and as the universe expands, and that has only gotten stronger.

One day soon, Richie’s going to have to tell him.

“You take care of yourself, Eddie,” Maggie says. “Don’t get so involved in your work that you forget to take care of yourself. And you find time to come out and see us, alright? I’m going to miss hearing you and Richie bicker.”

“You keep us on our toes,” Wentworth agrees.

“I’ll let you guys know as soon as I can come out,” Eddie promises. Maggie squeezes his hand.

“Let me know when you land in the Big Apple?” Richie asks.

Eddie takes his hand, too. “No one calls it that, you fucking idiot,” Eddie says. His voice is thick but there’s a smile on his face. “I will, though. Soon as I land. Then I’ll be demanding you send me all of your vitals so I can make sure you’re okay.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Richie says seriously.

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding to himself. “Fly safe. Be safe.”

Richie squeezes Eddie’s hand. “You, too.”

Eddie nods again. “Okay. Okay.”

They wheel Richie inside as Eddie makes his way back down the ramp. By the time Richie is situated in his seat and hooked up to the right machines, he can’t see Eddie when he looks across the tarmac. Somewhere, Eddie is making his way to his own plane, and Richie doesn’t even get to watch as he goes. It hurts, in a way it hadn’t hurt to watch everyone else leave. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Honey, hey,” Maggie says, from her seat next to him. She holds onto Richie’s arm. “It’s okay.”

“Would it come as a surprise to you if I told you that I loved him?” Richie asks, without opening his eyes, without looking at her. She pets his arm, soothing, calming.

“No,” she admits. “That would not surprise me at all.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 10, 2037 ]**

“How’s the search going, Ron?”

Veronica Parker doesn’t look up from her keyboard. “It’s going to take a while, Venk, that’s just the way this stuff works sometimes.”

Venkat Kapoor puts a hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he tells her. “Luckily, we have time. I just want to make sure we are the ones to recover them, before someone else does. Annie would kill all of us where we stand if Richie’s logs got leaked before we were ready for it.”

Veronica types another line of code and swears under her breath when she catches sight of an error. “From what I can tell, it looks like he deleted them all off of the hard-drive, which means he saved them somewhere externally. I’m trying to locate the recovery files first, before I start looking elsewhere. If he was thorough in deleting them off the hard-drive, then that means there’s only one place they were saved and no one can get to that.”

“Do you think he was thorough?”

“I think Richie Tozier is a botanist, not a computer guy,” Veronica says. “So if we’re lucky, and I’m pretty sure we will be… I think he _thinks_ he deleted them. I think that he doesn’t know all the places that information gets stored through NASA’s software.”

Venkat nods. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

Veronica gets back to work.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**VOICE MEMO, Untitled 26: Sep 15, 2037 at 08:15:36**

_“I asked Mom and Dad if they could take me to the beach this week, and we got clearance from the transplant specialists here, so I have that to look forward to. I’ve been back on Earth for just over a month now, and I’m slowly making my way to all the sights I swore I’d go see first if I ever made it back home. The beach is kind of a cliche one, but I don’t fucking care. I grew up here. I feel nostalgic, like, all the time now. I wanna see the ocean again. I spent months staring at red rock and white canvas and nothing in between. I missed the blue and green planet, and I’ve seen the green. I’ve seen a lot of the green. I’m ready for the blue.”_

[There’s a rustling in the background, like the sound of a wrapper opening.]

_“I’ve been home for just over a week. Well, home as in at my parents’ house. This will be home for th undeterminable future. I guess my apartment got sold when the world thought I was dead, but all of my stuff is in a storage container. Eventually I’ll be able to live on my own again, but probably not until they’re sure I’m not going to spontaneously stop breathing in the middle of the night. But it’s not all too bad. I’m nearly forty years old and I’m living with my parents and I’m not even complaining! Who woulda thunk it.”_

[He pauses to take a bite of something, chewing slowly. His mouth is full when he speaks again.]

_“I miss the crew, like, a gross amount. It feels stupid, but Dr. Shields promises me it’s not. Bill’s coming over tomorrow, too, since he’s the closest to me. I think that will help me stop feeling so aimless. I feel like I’m waiting for something to start, but I couldn’t tell you what it is. It’s annoying as all hell. But I miss those fuckers a lot, so I think seeing Bill will help. I asked him to bring Georgie’s kids, but I don’t think he thought I was serious about it.”_

[He pauses, then there’s a long sigh over the speaker.]

_“I dunno. I love my parents, I really do, but… god. I just feel. Lonely? I guess? I miss the crew. It’s not the same. I’m not alone, not like I was, but. I am. I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.”_

  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 16, 2037** **]**

“Buh-buh-buh Big Bill!” Richie shouts, the second that Bill walks in the door. Bill looks great, looks healthy, even, in the few weeks that have passed since Richie has seen him. His hair is longer. Bill grins and bends down to hug Richie from Richie’s spot on the couch. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, dude, it’s so good to see you. Holy shit. Sit down! Welcome to our little section of California.”

“It’s n-not that far from L.A.,” Bill says. He ruffles Richie’s hair. “Good to see you, man. H-h-how are you feeling?”

“Like I got a brand-new warranty on a new set of lungs,” Richie says, very seriously. “I’m feeling good. I start physical therapy soon, I’m fucking stoked. Can’t wait to feel less like everyone is waiting on my hand and foot.”

“I’m s-s-sure you’ll miss that greatly,” Bill says. He sits down next to Richie. “You’re good?”

“I’m good,” Richie promises. “Are you? Are you good? What the fuck have you been up to, Bill, tell me all the dirty details!”

Bill laughs. “Y-y-you never change.”

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if I did?”

“I’m good,” Bill says honestly. “M-moved in with Georgie and the girls, just temporarily. Came home to a job offer from H-H-Har—shit. _Harvard._ So. Considering t—uh. Taking that.”

Richie whistles. “Fucking _Harvard?_ Damn, Bill, just show us all up, why don’t you? Wait, didn’t Mikey just get a job offer at Boston University? Fuck, are you gonna leave California and go live closer to Mike? Bill, are you _leaving_ me?”

Bill laughs. The tips of his ears are pink. “Beep b-beep, Richie,” he says. “H-haven’t. I haven’t even accepted it yet.”

“But you’re going to, right? Yeesh. Harvard!”

Bill shrugs. “My divorce finalized b-b-before I left. I’d be c-closer to my mom and Dad. Georgie is t-t-talking about coming out that way, too. I don’t know. It’s a lot to con—consider.”

Richie covers Bill’s hand with his own. “Bill,” he says seriously. “If this is your long-winded way of confessing your undying love for me and asking me to move to Harvard for you, I feel I must be upfront. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, but my heart will always belong… to Georgie. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

Bill shoves at Richie’s shoulder. “Shut up!” he laughs. “G-g-god, I forgot how _annoying_ you are.”

“It is a gift,” Richie agrees. “Hey, Bill, I… can I ask you something?”

“Anything, man,” Bill says honestly.

Richie’s stomach clenches. He’s been afraid, too afraid of what the answers to his questions might be, and by the time he thought he might be ready to ask them, everyone had already left. He doesn’t want to have to keep waiting.

“Can you tell me what the _Hermes_ was like? When I wasn’t there? When you guys thought I was…” Richie trails off. It’s hard, even now, to talk about it, and he hadn’t even lived through that part. He has no idea what the crew went through during the months they didn’t know Richie was alive. “Fuck. Never mind, it’s stupid, I don’t want you to relive that—”

“Shut up,” Bill says gently. Richie looks up. “Are you sure you w-want to know?”

Richie looks back down at his hands. He writhes them together. “Yeah,” he admits. “I think it’ll help me.”

Bill clears his throat. Richie doesn’t look up again when he starts to talk. “The _Hermes_ was a ghost town, Rich. Nothing felt the same. I m-mean… all of us were walking around like. Like. Something was _wrong._ I can’t even tell you how m-m-many times I found someone c-cr-crying. How many times someone f-found _me_ crying. All of us, I mean. We missed you. Something was missing. We all f-felt it.”

“Fuck,” Richie whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Bill says firmly. “Y-you don’t have to be sorry. None of us do, R-R-Richie. I mean, _fuck,_ it wasn’t anyone’s f-f-fault. That’s what you always say, right?”

Richie snorts out a laugh. “That _is_ what I always say,” he agrees. “But just because Beverly keeps trying to put all the blame on herself. Like any of us could have done it any differently.”

“She did it on the ship, too,” Bill says. “Blamed herself. We had to s-s-sed—fuck.”

Richie looks up. “You had to what?”

Bill’s expression is sheepish.

“You had to _what,_ Bill?” Richie demands.

Bill’s face goes through something complicated before his shoulders finally slump in defeat. He looks away from Richie. “We had to sedate Eddie, when we got back to the _Hermes._ When we all boarded and he realized you weren’t there. We had to sedate him. By the time we had him in the medbay and asleep, Beverly was crying in the hallway. I don’t think she knows that we saw her, but she blames herself for that. Hell, Richie, those first few days? I think we _all_ blamed ourselves. It was the hardest thing we ever had to do.”

Richie’s crying, unable to stop it. He hadn’t even realized he had started. He wipes, unsubtly, at his eyes. “Damn, Buh-buh-buh Bill, you didn’t stutter once during that,” he jokes weakly. “I didn’t know. None of you should have blamed yourselves at all.”

“Nothing could have stopped us,” Bill admits. “We felt like we’d lost a family member.”

Richie chokes on another sob. “Fuck, dude, okay,” he says with a laugh. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

Bill pulls Richie into a hug, gentle, careful. Richie cries into his shirt. “It’s okay,” Bill promises. He rubs his hand up and down Richie’s back. “It’s g-g-good, Rich. The hard part is over.”

“Sorry you guys had to make that impossible choice to come back and get my sorry ass,” Richie gasps out. He grabs a handful of Bill’s shirt, just to find something to hold to.

“Wasn’t impossible,” Bill tells him. “Wasn’t even a hard choice. Easiest choice we’ve ever m-m-made. We’d all do it again.”

Richie laughs wetly. “Well, I’ll tell you what. Next time I won’t get stranded on a planet so you guys don’t _have_ to make that choice, sound good? It’s someone else’s turn. Maybe Stan’s. Though he’d probably be grateful to get away from all of us. Me. He’d be grateful to get away from me.”

“You _do_ annoy him a great amount,” Bill agrees. “He s-s-still came back for you.”

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. He clings to Bill a little bit tighter. “But like you said. He’d do it again, too.”

Bill nods. “Yeah, Richie. We’d do anything for you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 19, 2037 ]**

Stan presses a kiss to Patty’s temple as he passes her, perched on the counter and bent over her laptop. She doesn’t look up but she still smiles. “What are you doing, babylove?”

“We’re going on a honeymoon,” she tells him. “We got married and then you left for Houston and then you went to literal actual Mars, and while that may have been a trip for you, I was stuck in Atlanta the whole time as a new bride without her husband, so we are going on a honeymoon.”

Stan hums noncommittally. He takes a cutting board down from the cabinet and sets to work chopping up the peppers. “We could have a honeymoon at home, Pat.”

“Stanley, my darling, you’re the absolute love of my life, but don’t ever suggest that again,” Patty tells him seriously. “We don’t have to go on a trip tomorrow, but we’re going on a trip.”

Stan turns to look at her. “I don’t have to take you out of Atlanta to spoil you rotten, you know. I’m perfectly capable of doting on my beautiful wife from the comfort of our home.”

“Are you telling me you _don’t_ want to go to Buenos Aires then on a conservation trip a little bit further inland?” Patty asks. She turns her laptop to show him the trip she’d been in the middle of planning. Stan scoops all of the peppers into a pot then comes to Patty and wraps her up in his arms.

“You’re the most perfect woman in the world, and you know me better than anyone else on this planet,” Stan says seriously. He kisses her in the middle of her laugh. “Let’s go to Buenos Aires.”

Patty kisses him again. “I was thinking we could go next summer?” she says. “That’ll give everyone enough time to settle. Give you time to go visit Richie again, make sure he’s healthy before we leave the country. I know you’ll be worrying about him every day anyway.”

“You’re the most _perfect_ woman in the world,” Stan repeats. He feels lucky, so damn lucky his chest is bursting with it, that Patty loves him like this. That she knows him well enough to know that he’s going to struggle enough as it is being on the other side of the country from Richie during this crucial time in his recovery. That it’s only been a few months and he already misses the crew more than he can express. He doesn’t _have_ to express it, because Patty just gets it, and she works with it, and he loves her so damn much he can’t believe he just spent the last two years without her.

Patty laughs and turns her face away when Stan tries to kiss her again. “You’re going to burn the peppers,” she tells him, patting his chest. She kisses his nose and pushes him away. “Next summer? Does that work?”

“Why not?” Stan says. He ducks down for one more quick, filthy kiss before letting her go and returning to the dinner he was making them.

“You’re a menace, Stanley Uris,” she says breathlessly.

He just winks at her.

His phone chimes loudly from its spot on the counter. Stan doesn’t even look up, instead saying, “Pat, can you check that for me?”

Patty hums. Stan stirs the pot and adds in the onions and tomatoes, unaware of what’s happening behind him. “It’s just Mike,” she tells him. His phone unlocks as she reads the text.

He only looks up when he hears Patty put the laptop down and run out of the room. “Patty? Is everything okay?”

From the living room, he can hear the television click on.

Something uneasy settles in Stan’s stomach.

“Patty?”

“Baby,” she says. Her voice shakes. “You need to come see this.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**FULL TRANSCRIPT: Breaking News, Trial Involving** **_Ares III_ ** **Crew**

_Cathy Johannsen, anchor for news station CNN, covers the breaking news of announced trial against Commander Beverly Marsh of Ares III on September 19th, 2037._

(Transcript provided via CNN)

  
JOHANNSEN: Hello, I’m Cathy Johannsen. As you know, CNN has been closely following news regarding now-famous astronaut Richie Tozier during his survival and subsequent recovery from Mars’s surface. Today, we come with you with breaking news regarding a trial out against Commander Beverly Marsh. This trial is set to determine whether or not Commander Marsh was negligent in her decision to leave Richie Tozier on Mars without proper confirmation that he was deceased. At this time, Commander Marsh has made no statement regarding the trial, and the rest of the _Ares III_ crew has stayed silent as well. It is unclear whether or not Richie Tozier is aware of the charges against his commander and whether or not he will testify for or against her. A trial date has not yet been set. Please stay tuned for further updates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> xoxo i know and i'm so sorry BUT !!! but !!!! guess what's coming next chapter!!!!!!  
> it's been a pretty busy but boring week and the highlights include writing a research paper on placebos (what could have inspired this i wonder) and watching the martian for funsies and crying the entire time, and next week is supposed to be even busier !! perks of nursing school everyone. ANYWAY. this chapter was rly fun to write, i'm having the time of my life writing maggie and eddie together, you can't tell me they wouldn't conspire against richie just like. 24/7. and NEXT CHAPTER !! a kiss or two? or seven? much to look forward to i suppose hm hmm.  
> this chapter was not supposed to be so plot heavy but... here it took us so here we shall go. remember when i promised that there would just be a lot of kissing but we're over 10k in and not one kiss has occurred... restraint who.... one day i will know her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had Plans with this chapter but turns out i hate writing richie and eddie being apart so i changed all my plans but this lil bit was necessarily for the transition so here is a Very Short Update in which there's pining but not for LONG

ap·as·tron | _noun_

  1. the point of greatest separation between two stars



  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 20, 2037 ]**

“They’ve barely been home a month and we’re already proceeding with court hearings?” Venkat demands. He slams the door to Teddy’s office behind him.

“It’s an investigation, Venk, there’s no accusation out against Commander Marsh yet,” Teddy says calmly. He closes his laptop and leans forward. “You know how the media likes to run with things without having the full story. Please, sit down.”

Venkat looks at him incredulously. “It’s just an investigation,” he repeats flatly. “Is that what you’d have me tell the entire crew when they start calling me and breaking down my door demanding to know why this is happening? We warned Dr. Kaspbrak about this before the crew even made it home. They’ve been expecting this, but it doesn’t make a single one of them less angry. You understand that, right?”

Teddy sighs. “I understand that there was a situation on another planet that led to one of NASA’s astronauts being left alone, alive, with no hope of survival. I understand that if we don’t go through with this investigation, someone else might. We can protect our astronauts if it’s coming from us to start with. We can protect the future of NASA, too.”

“You call this _protecting_ Beverly Marsh?” Venkat asks. He pulls his phone out and opens a text message from Ben Hanscom, showing it Teddy. “Tell me how _this_ is considered protection. Hansom reports that Marsh can’t even leave her apartment due to the amount of reporters lined up outside her house. None of the rest of the crew has even dared to make a statement yet, all of them too concerned of saying the wrong things. Did you even get the commander a lawyer?”

“She has a lawyer,” Teddy says, still infuriatingly calm. “It’s just an investigation to prove, full-heartedly, that Commander Beverly Marsh did the same thing any other commander would have done in the situation. She and the rest of the crew will take the stand and testify about what happened that day. If we need to, we can release the audio clip from that night to verify their story. I’m not feeding her to the wolves, Venkat, I’m putting the dagger in her hand so she has what she needs to fend them off for the rest of her life. People are going to question her everywhere she goes for as long as she lives. This crew has already gone through enough, don’t you think?”

Venkat blinks. He leans back on his heels, processing what Teddy has told him. “That’s… strangely humane,” Venkat admits.

Teddy gives him a wry smile. “Coming from me?” Teddy asks.

“I’m not the one who said it,” Venkat says with a shrug. “You do come off as cold sometimes, Ted.”

“I care about this company,” Teddy says. “I care about the future of NASA. The future of the _Ares_ missions. The future of space travel. But I do also care about the futures of _this_ crew. Allow me to help them in the only way that I can.”

Venkat sighs. He takes his phone back from Teddy and slides it back into his pocket. “You know, Mitch is going to tear you limb from limb when he finds out about this.”

“Oh, Mitch already knows,” Teddy murmurs. “I’ve already gotten quite the earful. He also informed me that it doesn’t matter than he’s no longer employed here, and he can say whatever he damn well pleases about the crew he put on Mars.”

“You give him the same speech you gave me?” Venkat asks.

“More or less. He took a lot more persuading. He seems to think that my track record doesn’t pave the way for a lot of blind trust.”

Venkat huffs out a laugh. “That does sound like him.”

Teddy lets out a small laugh of his own.

Venkat sits down heavily, finally, in the chair that Teddy offered him at the beginning of this. He scrubs at his face. “Okay,” he says with a deep breath. “How do I help?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**TO: THE Commander Bev Marsh**

**[04:32]** your lawyer emailed me

 **[04:32]** intense gal

 **[04:32]** she advised against a public appearance by me, announcing that NASA is full of idiots and that this trial is bullshit

 **[04:32]** apparently that’s bad for my “image”

 **[04:33]** i wanted to remind her that the whole world knows that FUCK is my favorite word, so i don’t think that this is gonna negatively affect my “image” at all, but i’m not the fucking lawyer here so i’m gonna do what i’m told.

 **[04:59]** i know you’re overwhelmed. i know you’re feeling guilty. but we are all going to tear NASA apart if it means protecting you. we love you. i love you. i wouldn’t be back here if it weren’t for you. that’s what matters.

**FROM: THE Commander Bev Marsh**

**[09:01]** thanks you.

  
  
  


**TO: Haystack**

**[09:02]** is she okay?

**FROM: Haystack**

**[09:03]** Isolating herself. Lot of phone calls with the lawyers. We’re trying to figure out now if we can get her out of the building and hide her out at my place until this dies down. I’ve never been so grateful to live in Chicago before.

**TO: Haystack**

**[09:05]** i’m sure that’s not the only reason you are thankful to live there benny boy

 **[09:05]** take good care of our girl. i’d fly out there myself but i think the transplant doctors might kill me

**FROM: Haystack**

**[09:05]** If Eddie didn’t first.

  
  
  


**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[10:14]** Do NOT do anything stupid, like go out into the street to find the first reporter you can then start screaming about Bev’s innocence and NASA’s idiocy. 

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[10:15]** jesus christ where’s the faith? i would never dream of it!!!

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[10:15]** Richie.

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[10:16]** yeesh tough crowd! bev’s lawyer already talked me off that ledge you’re too late staniel

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[10:47]** Richie, how do we protect her from this?

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[10:55]** i really fucking wish i had an answer for that

  
  
  
  
  
  


**VOICE MEMO, Untitled 28: Sep 22, 2037 at 15:46:12**

_“So the media is having a fucking field day with this whole Marsh v. NASA bullshit. I have now been advised by multiple legal teams not to make a statement, which I think is also bullshit. How the fuck does this make Bev feel, in the middle of this? Like, ‘hey, these cool people who gave you the chance to make history in space travel are now fucking you over! Also, none of your friends are gonna act like they are on your side! Welcome back to Earth, ya national hero!’ It’s bureaucratic bullshit!”_

[There’s a sound of something falling off a surface and clambering to the ground, then indiscernible muttering.]

_“I keep texting her and trying to get an update on where she’s at, but I get, like, maybe one text back a day. Ben is more forthcoming with his updates. Bill and Mike both flew out there to check on her themselves, since they had the spare time in between starting their new jobs. I’ve never felt more fucking benched in my life. Like, I’m so fucking useless! I’ve been dead weight ever since the rescue. I can’t contribute fucking anything. And everyone is like, ‘oh, Richie, we’ll come out and visit you!’ and I’m like, fucking no, please go check on Bev! Jesus! Clearly she needs this more than me!”_

[He sucks in sharply, clearing out of breath from his rant. There’s a brief pause.]

_“I’m getting worked up. Dr. Shields would tell me to calm the shit down. I don’t know how I’m expected to act normal right now, but what-fucking-ever, I guess.”_

[He sighs.]

_“Eddie’s gonna call me tomorrow. I mean, he calls me a lot. We talk a lot. It doesn’t necessarily have to be scheduled. But we’re FaceTiming tomorrow, and that has been previously planned. Is it normal that I feel nervous for it? Like, it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. And I miss him a fucking lot. I miss him… fuck. God. Okay.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 23, 2037 ]**

Eddie’s heart actually skips a beat in his chest when his laptop chimes with the incoming video call, like he’s thirteen and not a grown-ass adult who has been to literal space. He straightens his shirt and sits down a bit harder than he means to in the chair before accepting the call. His cheeks are a little pink in the camera, but he barely even notices it because Richie’s face fills the screen and it’s the only thing that matters.

If he’s being honest, Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being thrilled by the sight of Richie’s face. Eddie had spent months believing he would never see it again; part of him wants to commit every curve of it to memory.

“Hey,” he breathes out, feeling a little like he’s been punched in the chest, before Richie grins from ear to ear and Eddie gasps in a frantic breath. He shakes his head and says more clearly, “Oh my god. Hey.”

_“Hey,”_ Richie says back, voice tinny and imperfect through the speakers and the most beautiful sound Eddie has heard in the past two weeks. _“Fuck. We talked on the phone, like, yesterday, but I still feel like I haven’t talked to you in a million years.”_

“You look like you haven’t showered for a million years,” Eddie says back, without missing a beat, because even separated by two thousand miles and three time zones and two weeks Richie still has this pull on him that turns him back into an immature teenager with a crush. He grins, a little lopsided, to make up for it. “Have you been going to your doctors appointments?”

Richie sighs like he’s being greatly put out. _“God, I should have taken Bill up on that bet, he said you wouldn’t last five minutes without asking about my health and I told him you wouldn’t last thirty seconds. I could be fifty bucks richer right now.”_

“Are you?” Eddie demands, because there wasn't an answer and he knows Richie's evasion tactics.

_“Yes, Christ,”_ Richie laughs. _“Down, boy. Mom is over-enthused about my appointments. Puts them up on the fridge and everything. She keeps offering to take me out to ice cream after each appointment.”_

Eddie rolls his eyes. “And I bet you haven’t turned her down once.”

_“Not one single time,”_ Richie says proudly. _“It’s free ice cream, Eds, what am I gonna do? Say no?”_

Eddie tries to fight off a smile, biting his lip to keep it from taking over his face. He’s sure it doesn’t matter, because Richie knows anyway, and it’s kind of worth it for the way that Richie’s face lights up. “Are you eating fruits and vegetables?”

_“I got more than my fill of veggies on Mars, don’t you think?”_

“Hm,” Eddie hums. He covers his mouth with his hand because he can’t hold off his grin anymore. “I’m gonna make you mashed potatoes when I come visit you.”

_“I will fucking end your life.”_

A snort bursts out of Eddie, undignified and happy. Richie’s sour expression cracks after just a second, and soon he’s smiling softly at Eddie through the camera as Eddie fails to suppress his laughter. “I would never, I would never,” Eddie promises, then he pauses. “Just applesauce.”

Richie groans. _“You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”_

Eddie leans back in his chair, until eventually his giggles subside into a soft smile he’s sure he’s going to wear all night. It’s quiet for a moment, easy silence where they just look at one another through their small laptop screens, and it’s almost enough.

Eddie’s voice is gentle as he admits, “Is it totally insane that I miss you already?”

_“Six uninterrupted months in space wasn’t enough for you, Eddie baby?”_ Richie asks. There’s unmasked delight in his voice that warms Eddie from top to bottom.

“No,” Eddie says immediately. He doesn’t even hesitate. “Obviously that was not enough time, you dumbass. We just got you back. I…. _I_ just got you back. I could have spent another six years on the _Hermes_ if you were there, too.”

Richie’s mouth tightens as he says, almost instinctively, _“You don’t mean that.”_ Eddie’s throat constricts painfully, bud Richie barrels forward before Eddie can even open his mouth. _“Living on the Hermes gave you stress ulcers. Pretty sure you were convinced every eight seconds we were going to die in a new and terrible way.”_

“Fuck me for being prepared for anything, I guess.”

_“Space monkeys eating our faces off was a pretty out-there thing to be prepared for, Spaghetti.”_

“It happened in that one movie with Brad Pitt!” Eddie argues.

Richie scoffs. _“First of all, don’t ever mention that movie to me again. It’s not even a real space movie. We’re literal fucking astronauts, Eddie, have some goddamn dignity.”_

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “You’re so annoying. It’s terrible how much I miss you.”

Richie grins, bright and gorgeous and obnoxious, and Eddie misses him so viscerally he thinks he might explode with it. He is up to his neck in research and trainings and meetings to familiarize himself with the new staff, and he has months worth of work to catch up on, but suddenly it all seems so trivial and pointless when Richie is halfway across the country smiling and healing and _living._

_“Aww, I love you, too, Eddie baby,”_ Richie says, complete with an overdramatic wink that does _not_ make Eddie blush. _“I miss you, too, you big weirdo. Cali is super lonely now that Big Bill up and left me.”_

Eddie’s heart constricts painfully. “Rich, I _told_ you I’ll come visit—”

_“Fuck off, if anyone is going anywhere, they’re going to Chicago,”_ Richie interrupts. His expression doesn’t leave room for argument. _“Bev needs you more than I do. I got good ol’ Maggie and Wentworth to take care of me. I’m okay. I promise.”_

“You _just_ said you were lonely!”

_“Eds, you’re realizing you’re talking to the guy who was alone on an entire planet for eighteen months, right?”_ Richie laughs.

Eddie’s expression drops.

He thinks he might throw up.

Richie trails off awkwardly when he realizes Eddie isn’t laughing, too. His face goes sad. Eddie wants to reach out and touch him. _“Is it still too soon to be making those jokes?”_

“You’re the one who went through it,” Eddie says, voice small. He’s just glad it doesn’t waiver. “You tell me.”

_“We all went through it, Eds.”_

Eddie swallows thickly.

_“Bill told me—”_ Richie starts, then stops himself in the middle of his word. He frowns, big and prominent. His cheeks go pink. _“He told me that you took it really hard, when you got back to the ship. They sedated you. You were. Uh. He said you were a ghost.”_

“You were dead,” Eddie says softly.

_“I wasn’t,”_ Richie tells him.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know that _now,_ you idiot.”

Richie shifts his weight back and forth in his chair. _“I’m sorry,”_ he says finally, not looking up. _“I can’t… I mean, shit. I can’t even imagine what it was like for you guys.”_

“Richie, what the fuck?” Eddie says quickly. “Dude, no! What the shit? I can’t even imagine what it was like for _you,_ I mean, what the fuck.”

_“Wasn’t a good time for any of us, I guess we can just say that,”_ Richie murmurs. _“I’m sorry for bringing it up.”_

Eddie softens. “We can talk about it.”

_“No, no,”_ Richie insists. He finally meets Eddie’s gaze again through the camera, even giving Eddie a timid smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. _“I haven’t seen your cute, cute face in a billion weeks, I don’t want to waste our precious little time making your pretty little eyes sad.”_

“Richie,” Eddie says.

_“How’s New York?”_ Richie presses on. _“Did ya say hi to your mom for me?”_

“That joke wouldn’t be funny even if my mom was alive,” Eddie snaps. Richie’s laughter comes out a little bit forced, and Eddie’s heart pangs again.

There’s a second of hesitation, then Richie launches into a story about something his dad said the other week on their way to the beach, and while he talks animatedly with his hands and with a smile that’s not at its fullest, Eddie pulls up another tab on his laptop and starts typing.

_“Eds, are you listening to me?”_ Richie asks, minutes or hours later, after so many stories that Eddie has last track. He could listen to Richie talk for hours. He could record it and play it back over and over again. Richie’s voice may just be his favorite melody in the world. Eddie hates that he hasn’t heard it in person for two weeks.

  
“I’m always listening to you, Rich,” Eddie says honestly, and he clicks _book_ on the first flight he can find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> HELLO ITS ME. ITS BEEN A WEEK ISNT THAT CRAZY. it has been a pretty busy week for me and writing took the back burner so i could focus on schoolwork and work-work and introducing two new members to my household (a new kitten and a new succulent!) but i finally caught a little break today and was able to sit down and polish this. like i mentioned at the beginning, i knew where i wanted to take this chapter when i sat down to write it but i feel like i've written enough Pining, don't you? it's about time these dumb boys get their shit together.  
> i estimate i'll probably have another chapter up next week or so; i've got a big exam tomorrow but after that i have an easy week for my workload ahead and coming back to this story is a nice release for me.  
> as always, every comment i receive on this blows my mind away. i'm so far behind on replying to everyone's comments but please know i see all of them and cry over all of them and will one day binge-reply to all of them. i know i keep saying it but i'm constantly overwhelmed at how many people reach out to me to talk about this story or these characters or this universe. i've lost track of how many times people have sent me things that remind them of this story. as a writer, it's truly the most phenomenal thing you can experience.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to kris, loml and platonic soulmate, who reassured me like 80 times that this chapter is not all over the place like i think it is and for also just being the best ily

mag·ni·tude | _noun_

  1. the class into which a star falls by virtue of its brightness.
  2. the great size or extent of something.



  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 24, 2037 ]**

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking _kidding_ me,” Richie breathes. “Dad. _Father._ Turn up the TV, please.”

“Is it worth it to reprimand you for your language, Rich?” Maggie asks with a sigh, not looking up from her cross-stitching. In the seat next to her, Wentworth snorts around a snore, sound asleep. Richie kicks exasperatedly at his dad’s foot.

“Probably not,” Richie answers honestly. “Did you follow the things I said to NASA? You probably should not have. I knew I was breaking your heart every time I opened my mouth. _Dad._ For the love of Christ, wake up, turn _up the volume_ please!”

Maggie nudges Went’s shoulder, and Went grunts awake. “Turn up the TV for your son, please, he’s being so whiny.”

“Neither of you are even looking at the screen!” Richie says incredulously, as Wentworth turns up the TV. “For god’s—Eddie got on a _plane_ last night!”

This causes Maggie to look up, squinting at the TV as they show another picture of Eddie at the airport, wearing a shoddy ball-cap and sunglasses as a disguise. It’s no wonder he got spotted the second he stepped foot in the airport. “Where’s he going?” she asks. “Is he coming to visit?”

“Fucker, he _better_ not!” Richie says vehemently. He fumbles around for his phone. “I told him not to—I told him, if anyone is getting on any planes, they’re going to Beverly. He better be on his way to Beverly!”

Went hums and sits forward. “No one would have even noticed him if this trial weren’t taking place,” he notes.

Richie glares halfheartedly at Went. “Yes. Thank you, Dad, for that brilliant insight.”

He finally locates his phone and lets out a victorious whoop as he pulls it up, opening his text messages. Richie shoots off a text to Eddie then stares at his phone in dismay when he doesn’t get confirmation that the text has delivered.

“I hope Eddie does come, it would be great to see him,” Maggie says. “He didn’t tell you he was coming? Ooh, a surprise visit!”

Richie makes an exasperated sound as he switches into his text messages with Beverly.

**TO: THE Commander Bev Marsh**

**[09:03]** URGENT URGENT is eduardo with you?

**FROM: THE Commander Bev Marsh**

**[09:04]** no??

“Fuck!” Richie yells.

“Why are you so worked up?” Went asks, always late to the party. Richie stares at him for a moment, unsure how to articulate it anyway. Why _is_ he upset? Shouldn’t he be more excited at the prospect of Eddie coming to visit? All Richie cared about for eighteen months getting back to Eddie, getting back to all of his friends. All he had thought about for _days_ was what it would be like to reunite with them. Being back on Earth, being here without them, sometimes it feels so goddamn unbearable he doesn’t know how he gets through the day. Sometimes the thought of seeing them again sends him into a panic so visceral he can’t put a name on it.

“It’s hard,” he admits, because Dr. Shields has encouraged him to share his actual emotions more often than he shares jokes. “Thinking of seeing them again. It freaks me out.”

Both Maggie and Went turn to look at him, surprised. Maggie puts down her cross-stitching. “Sweetheart, why?” Maggie asks gently.

Richie just shrugs.

Went clears his throat awkwardly. Richie’s similar to his father in a lot of ways, but it takes him by surprise every time he realizes it anyway. “They love you,” Went says, voice gruff and uncomfortable. He’s not prone to comforting words; truth be told, no one in the Tozier household is. Their default is sarcasm. It’s part of the reason Richie loves his family so much. “Hell, son, they literally bent the law to get you back. If you’re worried they’ve stopped caring…”

“No,” Richie says quickly. “No, it’s not that! I know they still care. That’s not the problem.”

Maggie’s eyes dart to the TV then back to Richie’s face, searching for something Richie couldn’t guess if he tried. Her expression is thoughtful and sad. Richie may not be able to put a name to this, but Maggie Tozier is his mother, and in a lot of ways she knows him better than he knows himself.

It’s unsettling, the weight of her gaze on him, the idea that she knows something he doesn’t know.

Combined with the knowledge that Eddie is, for all Richie knows, on his way to them now, it’s a bit too much for Richie to bear right now.

He reaches for his cane and starts the process of hauling himself to his feet, moving slowly and taking deep breaths the way he’d learned in physical therapy. Went shifts in his chair, like he’s tempted to get up and help even though he knows better, but Richie gets there soon enough. He glances back at his parents once he’s on his feet and gives them a sheepish grin.

“I think I’m gonna go lay down,” he says. “Give ye ole’ lungs a break from all this stress, you know?”

“Richie,” Maggie says.

“Yeah, Ma,” Richie answers back absentmindedly, grabbing his blanket from off the couch. She doesn’t respond again, and when Richie finally turns to look at her, she’s looking back down at her cross-stitching again. Went’s gaze alternates between the two of them like he’s not sure what he wants to do. “Ma?”

“Do you need your meds?” she asks, glancing up at him as she pulls a thread through.

Richie’s chest tightens painfully. Sometimes he’s overwhelmed by how much he loves his parents. It hits him all at once, how badly he missed them while he was away. How much he wanted to come back home for them during his eighteen months stranded. He cried like a baby when he got that first email from them, and he cried even harder before that one lonely night on Mars when the reality of his situation had just started to sink in. He’s lucky, in a lot of ways, that he gets to be back with them now. That he gets to have the caring, teasing, loving parents he wanted so badly when he was alone.

“I’m okay,” Richie says. His voice is thick, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “Thanks though, Ma.”

Maggie smiles at him. “Holler if you need.”

“Aye, aye,” Richie says, and he’s barely taken one step forward before the doorbell rings.

Next to his brand-new lungs, his heart skips a beat or five in his chest.

It’s a dangerous thing, loving Eddie Kaspbrak. It may just kill him yet.

“I’ll get it,” Richie says, and he waves off his mother’s protests as he slowly makes his way towards the door, putting more weight on the cane than probably is necessary. His heart is pounding a staccato beat, tapping away in his throat. He’s positive it might give out before he even opens the door and sees Eddie. Because it’s got to be, it’s _got_ to be Eddie on the other side. And if it is, then Richie is faced with the undeniable fact that he is desperately in love with a man who just flew across the country to visit him; and even if it isn’t, that’s still an irrefutable fact, and it’s only a matter of time before his heart falls out of his mouth and into his hands and he’s got no choice but to give it to Eddie and hope for the best.

He feels like he’s walking through fog when he finally makes it up to the front door, and for a second he panics because he isn’t sure what he’s going to say. What _do_ you say to the man you loved so hard you defied space to come back to him? What do you say to the man you’ve been loving since the second you laid eyes on him?

Richie takes a deep breath as he puts his hand on the door handle, steeling himself one last time. He squeezes his eyes shut. God knows he’s survived a hell of a lot worse than this. He pulls the door open.

“Eduardo, you better have one hell of a good reason for coming to see me and not— _Bev_?”

On the other side of the door, Beverly lets out a startled, happy cry at the sight of Richie in the door. She steps forward gingerly, wrapping her arms around him as softly as she can, and she’s crying into his chest before Richie can even wrap his head around it well enough to hug her back.

_Beverly fucking Marsh._

“Bev?” he asks again, shocked and half-convinced he’s hallucinating and, most overwhelmingly of all, filled to the brim with _joy_ at the mere sight of her. It takes him a second, but soon he gets with the program and he’s throwing his arms around her, too, and hugging her for all he’s worth. “Holy fuck! Commander Beverly Marsh in the flesh, what the hell are you doing here?!”

“Came to visit the best botanist I know,” Beverly says, voice saccharine even around the tears. She clings to his t-shirt.

Richie laughs. “Fuck, let’s get you inside before the paps catch sight of you, what are you? Fucking crazy? The whole world is waiting to catch a glimpse of you and you jump on a plane? What the hell?”

She breaks the hug and helps him as he steps further back into the house, trailing after him and shutting the door soundly behind her. Her sunglasses are knocked askew, tangled now in the haphazard pile of hair on top of her head. Richie kisses her soundly on the forehead, just because he can. “Stop!” she says with a laugh, swatting at his chest. Then her face goes white. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, fuck, how did I forget you had surgery? I’m so sorry I hit you, shit—”

“Shut up, shut up, you weigh like three pounds, I didn’t even feel it,” Richie says giddily. “I can’t believe you’re here. How the hell did you sneak out of Chicago?”

Beverly points at the TV, still on the news, displaying a picture of Eddie in his shitty disguise. “Red herring,” she says smugly. She waves to Maggie and Went, who wave back from the couch. “Hello, Tozier family.”

Richie’s chest feels tight. “Did he even get on a plane?”

“Oh, yeah,” Beverly says. “Came to Chicago. Showed up on Ben’s doorstep sopping wet, looking extremely pissed off, with plane tickets to Los Angeles in his hands. Didn’t really give much of a choice besides getting on the plane and going.”

“Tickets?” Richie emphasizes.

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Ben and Eddie are back at the hotel. They wanted to give me a chance to come out here first. Figured we could avoid more suspicion if we stopped going places together.”

Richie’s voice is choked up as he says, “Dunno, Bev, this whole thing seems pretty suspicious to me.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, and she puts an arm around his waist. “Damn it, I missed you so much. Can we sit you down, though? You just had an entire organ transplant. You should probably be taking it easy.”

“I _have_ been taking it easy.”

Beverly pinches his side lightly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Richie leads them to the kitchen, and Maggie half-sits up as she offers to make them something, but she settles back down when Richie waves his hand and gives them both a small, happy smile as they make their way to the kitchen. Beverly helps him into the chair, even though he doesn’t really need it, then takes the seat across from him.

“So,” Beverly says, crossing her legs. “How’ve you been?”

“Uh, fuck me,” Richie says. “How the hell have _you_ been? Beverly, this entire trial bullshit is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard. I couldn’t believe it when they announced it. I had half the mind to go outside and start screaming at the first person on the street I could find just so I could go viral defending you. This whole thing is so fucked, they shouldn’t be blaming it on you.”

Beverly’s gaze drops to the ground. “Who else are they gonna blame it on, Richie? The media loves a scapegoat.”

“Christ, they could blame it on _me_ and that would make more sense.”

He doesn’t think before he says it, but the moment it’s out of his mouth, the room is deathly silent. There isn’t even a sound from one room over, where his parents had been previously still watching TV.

Beverly’s face is white when he finally looks up.

“What the hell do you mean?” she asks, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Richie blinks. “Uh. That if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the guy who wasn’t walking close enough to the group and got left behind because of that?”

Beverly makes a wounded sound. “Richie, you don’t really think it’s your fault, do you?”

“I’m the idiot who got stranded on an unexplored planet and decided to try and survive, of course it’s my fucking fault, Bev,” Richie whispers. His voice breaks in the middle. It’s guilt that he wouldn’t have even placed before he saw someone from the crew again, he realizes. He could have spent months oblivious to this turmoil inside of him.

“You got impaled by a broken antennae,” Beverly reminds him. There’s a hard edge in her voice. “I’m the one who made the call to abandon you.”

“Uh, yeah, because you’re the commander, any commander would have done the exact same thing in your situation.”

Beverly stares at him. “I could have looked for you longer.”

Richie glares back. “You literally could not have. The MAV was about to tip. I talked to Hanscom, Marsh. I figured out all the details I missed while I was unconscious. In fact, if we’re being technical, you wasted _too much_ time looking for me. That was stupid as fuck. It was the lives of six crew members or one probably already dead crew member. You did the right thing.”

“I shouldn’t have left you,” she insists.

“And I should have walked closer to the group,” Richie says. “Should have been linking arms with Eddie. It was the buddy system, but we weren’t linking arms like we were supposed to. The antennae might have missed me if I’d been closer to him, or he—he would have fallen down with me but he wouldn’t have been knocked out. I don’t know. But it wasn’t your fault, Bev, and I’ll stand in front of a jury and take the blame for all of it if I have to.”

Beverly grasps his arm. “You’re a goddamn idiot, Tozier,” she says, in her commander voice that Richie hasn’t heard in far too long. His spine straightens on instinct. “If you do that, you know what’s gonna come out? The fact that your rescue was—”

She stops suddenly.

“What?” Richie asks, off put but her sudden change in demeanor. Beverly’s mouth snaps shut. “Bev, the fact that my mission was _what_?”

Beverly’s shoulders drop. “We didn’t want you to find out,” she tells him, like that answers anything at all. Richie grips her hand with his own. The silence in the house almost echoes at this point, like the whole world is waiting to hear what she says next.

“Find out what?” he asks again.

“The _Hermes_ flyby was not originally a NASA-approved plan,” Beverly whispers. “Teddy Sanders rejected the plan and instead attempted to move forward with launching the Taiyeng Shen to resupply you until _Ares IV._ We received the maneuver from an encrypted source and unanimously decided to go forward with a mutiny, forcing NASA’s hand so that we could be the one to rescue you.”

“You—” Richie chokes out. “What?”

Beverly scoots forward. “Rich, this trial is most likely going to clear my name, and it’s going to protect all of us from anyone else trying to make any claims to take us or NASA down. It’s a wise move on their part, they’re just trying to protect me. And after what we did, we’re lucky they’re even on our side at all.”

“Beverly, what the fuck?” Richie whispers harshly. “Are you fucking serious? Why— _why?_ Why would you risk literally everything just to turn around, are you shitting me?”

She looks at him like she can’t believe how dumb he is. “For Christ’s sake, Tozier, how many times do we have to say that we love you before it gets through that thick skull of yours?” she asks. “Of course we went back for you. You would have done the same for us. And I don’t regret it for one goddamn second. You’d still be up there if we hadn’t. We have you back and we have you _home_ and you’re alive. And maybe you’re right, maybe the choice I made to leave wasn’t really my choice at all, but I made the choice to come back for you and I’ll stand by that every day. We all would.”

Richie feels sick. As much as she insists, he can’t wrap his head around the idea that they all risked _literally everything_ for him. For _him._ They could have been fired the second that they stepped back onto Earth’s soil. They could have been court-martialed and fined and thrown in jail, potentially, for the risks they took. And they did it anyway. They did it _anyway._

“Bev,” Richie says slowly.

She squeezes his hand. “Yes, honey?”

Richie blinks twice, hoping that’ll stop the tears from falling out of his eyes. “Eddie, he knew all the risks, right? And he still said yes? You said unanimous?”

“Yeah, Richie,” she confirms. “We all knew the risks. Eddie, probably better than all of us. You know how he is.”

_God,_ did Richie know. He spent more hours than he can count listening to Eddie’s lectures on how to prepare before their launch to make sure they all knew what they were getting into. He’s seen Eddie weigh the pros and cons of trying a new restaurant. He _knows_ Eddie Kaspbrak, and yet the concept of Eddie staring down the face of something dangerous and more risky than he could comprehend and doing it anyway is something that Richie himself can’t wrap his head around.

“He still said yes,” Richie repeats. He clutches Beverly’s hand. “Why?”

She gives him a small smile. “I can’t answer that for him, Richie, you know that.”

“Bev,” Richie says again.

“But,” she says, “the hotel is only five minutes away. And he’s got his own rental car.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**VOICE MEMO, Untitled 29: Sep 24, 2037 at 10:15:56**

_“I’ve got a few minutes before Eddie gets here, and I don’t know what he’s expecting to walk into, but…”_

[He huffs out a small laugh.]

_“Hell. I don’t even know what I’m expecting.”_

[When he pauses, the sound of a faint breeze is picked up by the speaker. There’s an audible click of a door sliding closed.]

_“One of the things they taught me back in high school astronomy was magnitude. Magnitude is the way they classify stars based on their brightness. The sun has a magnitude of -26.74. Brightest star in the night sky is Alpha CMa—Sirius—it’s got a magnitude of -1.44. I used to climb out of my window at night just to try and catch a glimpse of it. Spent hours on the roof just looking up at the night sky and… and wanting. I wanted to be among the stars so badly I thought that gravity would slowly crush me to death. I was sure that I was destined for something beyond what this planet could provide me.”_

[There’s another small laugh over the recording.]

_“If teenaged Richie knew what would happen to him, he would have shit himself.”_

[For a moment, all that’s heard are the steadying breaths that he takes. In, out, in, out, in, out.]

_“The funny thing is, as soon as I was among the stars, all I wanted was my own two feet on the ground I’d grown up on and my hand wrapped around the hand of the man next to me. It’s crazy how your dreams change when you’re faced with what you thought you always wanted. I was finally among the stars I had spent my whole life dreaming about, and you know what? All I could think about at that moment was that everything revolved around Eddie Kaspbrak, like he was the goddamn sun and I was just the helpless schmuck lost in his orbit.”_

[He sighs deeply.]

_“He’s brighter than any fucking star anyway. I’ve known that since the day I met him.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 24, 2037 ]**

Wentworth Tozier lets Eddie into the house, but Maggie leads him to Richie.

The house is unusually quiet in a way that Eddie had never expected the Tozier household to be, but it’s warm and cluttered and homey in all the ways he had hoped. Maggie’s arm is gentle on his, where she leads him through the living room and through the kitchen and eventually to a sliding door that opens out to a backyard. Eddie can see the top of Richie’s head, his messy curls pushed back, where he sits on a patio swing.

“Thanks, Maggie,” Eddie murmurs. She smiles softly as he opens the door.

Richie’s phone is sitting on his thigh, but the screen is dark. His head is tipped up towards the sky, eyes closed behind his glasses. A few wild curls dance around his forehead in the breeze. It’s warm, in so many ways that New York is not during September, and Eddie is grateful for it.

“Hey, Rich,” he says, after a minute or a hundred minutes have passed with him just staring.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie says back. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does scoot down on the bench, clearing more space for Eddie to come sit next to him. Eddie doesn’t even hesitate before walking over.

Richie looks healthier in a lot of ways than he did the last time Eddie saw him. There’s a fullness in his cheeks that’s coming back, and the bags are nearly gone. His hair is evenly cut, even in its untamed glory. He’s still thin but his shirt doesn’t look like it’s hanging off of him. Eddie resists the urge to ask Richie to lift his shirt so he can examine the scars and make sure they’re healing properly.

It’s his first good look at Richie in under three weeks; Eddie hates that it feels like it’s been longer.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, then he resists the urge to facepalm.

Richie grins, slow and lazy. A beautiful thing that spreads easily across his face. “Do you ever turn off doctor mode, Dr. K?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Eddie says dryly. “Are you mad at me?”

This gets Richie to look at him, the grin startled right off his face. His eyes are wide and confused when he catches Eddie’s gaze. “What? Why the hell would I be mad at you?”

“Because you told me not to fly out to L.A. and I did anyway.”

“You brought Beverly and Ben with you,” Richie reminds him. “I did tell you that if you got on a plane, you should be going to Beverly, and you technically did that. So I don’t think I’d even have the grounds to be mad at you.”

Eddie fights a smile. “I did like that little loophole when I thought of it, yeah.”

“Edward Kaspbrak, finding a loophole? Why, I never,” Richie teases. “Guess I should have seen that coming. Still wondering how you managed to sneak all three of you on a plane cross-country undetected, though.”

“I made a pretty big fuss about the first plane I got on, so everyone was focused on that. Made it easy to slip through the airport undetected in different clothes. No one pays attention to three strangers sitting in different seats. A lot of it was dumb luck. And the red-eye from Chicago to Los Angeles in the middle of September. Pretty empty flight.”

Richie hums. “Media’s gonna have a fit when they realize you’re all here.”

“I think I’m okay with that.”

Richie smiles again and looks away from Eddie. “Soon, our torrid love affair will reach the presses then we’ll never know peace. Oh, the stories they will paint about the two astronauts separated by the ultimate villain… space itself!”

“You’re so dumb,” Eddie says around a laugh. “Is this why you asked me to come over? So you could be dumb and I could tell you that in person?”

“No,” Richie says, and he’s still laughing but his face looks scared and hopeful and sad and confused all at once. Eddie wants to trace every emotion on Richie’s face with the pad of his thumb; he wants to replace all of them with the easy, slow smile from before. “No, that’s not why I had you come over.”

Eddie frowns, confused at which direction Richie is trying to take them. “Oh. Okay?”

Richie’s smile this time is not as sincere. “Bev told me about the mutiny.”

“She what?!”

“Yeah,” Richie says, forcing a laugh. “Told me you dumb idiots all decided to oppose NASA to come and save my sorry behind, and for what? Me to just come back to Earth and continue making dumb jokes.”

“It was worth it,” Eddie says resolutely.

“Why?”

The question throws him off. “Why did we do it?” he asks.

Richie finally looks him in the eye. “Why did _you_ do it? Why is it worth it?”

“Why is it worth it? Richie, you can’t be serious. You’re _alive._ You’re here! That in and of itself makes it worth it. I’d sabotage a thousand missions if it means that I get to have you, alive, back on Earth, instead of stranded on a planet miles and miles away from me for eternity.”

“But _why_?” Richie presses, right on the bruise, and if Eddie’s being honest, he can’t take it anymore.

“Because I was a ghost without you!” he cries out, and then he’s bursting at the seams with all the things he’s held back for so long. “Because I wanted to stay behind with you and they wouldn’t let me. Because I spent several months in agony thinking that you were dead and that I never got to tell you I loved you. Because I defied heaven and earth and space and everything in between to bring you back and I _still_ didn’t get to tell you I love you. Because ever since the second you opened your mouth at that damn party four years ago, I’ve been head over heels and I’ve never fucking stopped—”

“That’s all I needed,” Richie tells him, and Eddie barely has a second to make an indignant noise at being interrupted before Richie is leaning forward and putting his hand on Eddie’s jawline and tugging him in for a kiss.

Eddie has wanted for a thousand things in his lifetime. He has wanted to know medicine inside and out. He has wanted to make an impact on the world. He has wanted the galaxies and he has longed for something bigger and more vast than he could comprehend and he has fought desperately to get these things.

He has wanted Richie Tozier for less time than he has wanted any of those things, but somehow this is greater.

This is _more._

He twines his fingers in Richie’s shirt and kisses him back.

Eighteen months of isolation, too many tears to count, nightmares he doesn’t want to recall and nightmares he’ll never forget, and a hope so visceral and desperate he thought he might choke on it sometimes—none of it could have prepared him for this.

Nothing could have prepared him for the wild, infinitely unknowable reality that Richie Tozier might love him just as much.

He thinks, half-hysterically, as Richie presses his tongue lightly against Eddie’s bottom lip until Eddie opens up and lets him deepen the kiss, that nothing can prepare him for what comes next, either.

And he’s okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> this is the longest i've gone in between posting chapters 😫 FELT WEIRD, GUYS.  
> been a pretty eventful ? few weeks i suppose. work is going well though i interviewed for a new job and that went REALLY well so fingers crossed. classes are also going well! surprisingly. if anyone follows me on tumblr you might have briefly seen me complaining about a knee injury; i have an MRI later this week that should tell me (hopefully) what's wrong. as for the KITTEN UPDATE she is adjusting very well!! she is more curious than her sister but her sister is NOT quite a fan yet. they're slowly getting along. new kitty likes to eat all the food in sight. i love her.  
> ANYWAY. THIS CHAPTER. WHOO BOY. i hope it was worth the wait. we have been waiting for this for almost 80k words (jesus christ you guys.... jesus fucking christ). THESE IDIOTS GOT IT TOGETHER. FINALLY.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter does. absolutely _nothing_ to advance the plot. BUT. it is a fun look at richie's life pre-mars and i'm the writer so i'm going with it LMAO

ex·tra·ga·lac·tic | _adjective_

  1. outside or beyond this galaxy.



  
  
  


**[ NOVEMBER 7, 2006 ]**

“What about you, Richie?” Miss Peach asks, and all eyes in the classroom turn to him. He’s full of excited energy, tapping his foot anxiously against the legs of his desk. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I’m gonna be an astronaut,” Richie bursts out, and he means it _seriously_ because even though it’s every nine-year-old’s dream to be an astronaut, he _knows_ that he’s going to be, because the stars call to him in the middle of the night and ask him to come home to them and it _means_ something. “I wanna go to the moon—”

“Someone already went to the moon,” Trish interrupts, giggling to herself.

“ _I’m_ gonna go,” Richie insists. He holds up his picture, carefully colored in and complete with a very accurate drawing of the moon. His little stick figure is wearing a space helmet. “I’m gonna be an astronaut one day, and I’m gonna travel farther than anyone ever has in space!”

Miss Peach smiles at him kindly. “That’s wonderful, Richie,” she says, but in that adult kind of voice that tells Richie she doesn’t quite believe him. There’s scattered snickers around the classroom, too, and Richie slouches in his seat.

They may not believe him yet, but Richie knows. One day he’ll be in a spaceship and all his dreams will come true. No one will ever forget about Richie Tozier, _astronaut_.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ AUGUST 14, 2013 ]**

“Why do we have to do these stupid meetings anyway?” Richie groans, throwing a temper tantrum that might rival the ones he threw as a toddler. Maggie looks up at him, unimpressed.

“Bitch and moan all you want, kid, we’re going,” Maggie says. “The guidance counselors are here for a reason, they can help you get to where you want to be.”

Richie grumbles pathetically. “I don’t  _ want  _ to be anywhere.”

Maggie shoots him a stern glare.

Mr. Marquez is old and tall and kind, and every time he sees Richie in the halls he always acts like he and Richie are the best of friends. Which, maybe, is due to the fact that Richie gets sent to the counseling center or the vice principal’s office on at least a weekly basis. Sophomore year has only just started, and he’s already made his rounds once or twice.

Still, when Richie and his mom walk into Mr. Marquez’s office, Mr. Marquez stands and enthusiastically says, “Richie Tozier!” in his booming voice as he extends an enthusiastic hand to Richie first and then to Maggie. “Glad you could make it, bud.”

“Don’t give him any credit,” Maggie says. “I dragged him here.”

Mr. Marquez chuckles as he sits back down in a chair. He gestures across the desk for Richie and Maggie to do the same. “You know, more often than not, that’s the case with every pair that comes into my office for one of these meetings,” Mr. Marquez assures her. “So. Richie. The point of these meetings is to take your goals for the future and see if there’s anything we can do while you’re in high school to get you started on that path. So. Do you know what you want to do when you get into college?”

Richie shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Maggie squeezes his hand. He feels embarrassed, all the sudden, like the things he wants are childish and unattainable. What kind of high schooler hangs on to the future they wanted when they were a kid?

“Yes, you do, Richie,” Maggie urges him quietly. She may not understand what it is that he wants, nor the best way to get him there, but if there’s one thing Maggie Tozier has done well as a mother it’s encouraged Richie to speak up about what he wants. He’s never been shy, as a result. So why is he being shy now?

Richie clears his throat. He shrugs again. Tries to play nonchalant, like this is something that doesn’t really matter to him. It’s okay if he doesn’t achieve this. He doesn’t have to be the kid who cares about doing well in school. “I liked taking biology last year.”

Mr. Marquez smiles at him encouragingly. Richie wonders how many stubborn kids he sees in his office daily. Mr. Marquez pulls his grades up on the computer. “I can see you have high marks in your science classes,” he states. “So you like the sciences?”

“It just makes sense,” Richie says.

  
“You also do really well in your math classes,” Mr. Marquez states. “That’s good. They go hand in hand. What about biology last year interested you?”

Richie glances between his mom and Mr. Marquez. He thinks about the poster of the Milky Way that he keeps hanging up, hidden on the inside of his closet door. He thinks about all the research he’s done on the nights that he can’t sleep, trying to find out what it takes to be an astronaut and how hard it is to get a job working for NASA. Then he thinks about his mom’s garden in the backyard and how he picks fruits and vegetables every summer. He thinks about his next door neighbor carefully tending to his flower bushes outside each morning.

“The plant unit was really cool,” Richie admits.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ APRIL 2, 2016 ]**

When Richie gets home from work, there’s a thick envelope sitting on the kitchen counter.

He can’t be certain from where he stands in the doorway a good few yards away, but he’s pretty sure the CalTech emblem is on the upper left corner.

“Dad?” Richie calls out. His voice cracks in a way he hasn’t since his freshman year.

No one answers back.

Richie’s almost scared to breathe. He unceremoniously dumps his backpack on the ground, taking careful step after careful step towards the kitchen. He hardly feels like he’s moving at all. The closer he gets, the more certain he is that it’s the CalTech emblem, gleaming at him bright and orange.

“Dad!” he calls out again. “Mom! Anyone home?”

There’s still not a response. It’s not unusual, though Richie is surprised they aren’t here breathing down his neck. They know how badly he was waiting for this letter; they know how badly he wants to get in. He half-expected that the day it arrived, they would pull him out of school to open it or call his boss at the hardware store and tell her that there was a family emergency that required Richie to come home immediately.

But the envelope is just sitting there non-threateningly on the counter. Richie wonders how long it’s been here. He wonders how long the fate of his future has been resting in a thick envelope on his kitchen counter before he laid eyes on it.

It feels a bit anticlimactic, opening it now.

There’s a creaking sound ahead of him and the sound of the sliding door opening from the outside. Wentworth pokes his head in. “All right, Richie?”

Richie points at the letter on the counter. “CalTech.”

Went nods. “Indeed.”

If there was a way to point harder, Richie would. “California Institute of Technology.”

“That does seem to be the sender of the letter,” Went agrees.

“What if they turned me down?” Richie asks. He doesn’t look away from the letter.

Went closes the sliding door behind him as he comes fully into the house. “Then they turned you down,” he says. “I know it’ll feel like it’s the end of the world, but it wouldn’t be, kid. You got into Berkeley. They have a great undergrad program. Hey, worst comes to worst, you succeed so well at Berkeley that you have graduate programs begging for you to attend. If CalTech rejected you know, they’re gonna regret it in a few years.”

Richie scoffs, but it comes out as a laugh. Leave it to his dad to somehow know exactly what to say. Richie knows he should probably be more bothered at the fact that he and his father have very similar senses of humor. “Yeah,” he agrees. “When I’m a world famous botanist and I refuse to work for them.”

“That’s the spirit,” Went agrees. “Do you want to open the letter today? Because we can put it away until you’re ready.”

Richie shakes his head and finally looks up at his dad. “Nah. I think I’m ready. Where’s Ma?”

Went glances back out the sliding door. “In her garden. Want me to grab her?”

“Yeah. Why the hell not? Let’s make this a family shebang.”

Wentworth pauses before he goes outside. “Richie. CalTech. That’s what you want, right? That’s the goal?”

Richie swallows thickly. “It is,” he says.

Wentworth gives him a small smile. “Then let’s cross our fingers, right?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ DECEMBER 25, 2021 ]**

“Holy fuck,” Richie whispers.

On the TV, the newly appointed Chief Director for NASA opens the floor to questions after announcing a five-part Martian exploration expedition that will start in the next year. Richie scrambles to turn the TV up, desperate to absorb everything that comes out of Theodore Sanders’ mouth.

_“These five missions, are you planning on sending astronauts on each one?”_ asks a reporter.

On screen, Theodore Sanders clears his throat. _“No. The first mission is scheduled to place the first helicopter on Mars. We anticipate that this will give us better aerial views and pictures than we have been able to collect so far. The helicopter will also gather a sample of rock and bring it home. The second mission will have astronauts, yes, but it will only be an orbit of Mars. We are not planning on placing American astronauts on Martian soil until Ares III.”_

Richie gulps. _People on Mars,_ he thinks desperately. His mind flashes to a poster still hidden in his childhood closet at home.

Lights flash and more questions overlap on screen until Theodore Sanders finally points at another reporter. She asks, _“What can you tell us about each of these Ares missions?”_

_“Right now, not much about the later ones,”_ Theodore Sanders says. _“I can tell you that we have scheduled a launch date for Ares I for July of 2022. Ares II will retrieve the Mars Helicopter during flyby and examine the specimens returned.”_

The front door to Richie’s apartment opens and closes. Alex presses an absentminded kiss to Richie’s head as he passes by. “Merry Christmas, babe. Whatcha watching?” he murmurs.

“They just announced a series of missions to Mars,” Richie breathes out. “It’s so cool. They’re sending up a helicopter. They’re gonna put people on _Mars._ ”

Alex laughs. “Can’t wait to see all the poor schmucks who think they’re qualified to apply for that mission,” he muses. He shrugs his sweater off as he walks into Richie’s room. “Who would even want to do that?”

_“Can you tell us anything about your plan for the first astronauts on Mars?”_ another reporter asks.

_“It is NASA’s goal to retrieve an understanding on what we are looking at on the Red Planet,”_ Theodore Sanders says. _“We want to know the conditions on Mars and whether or not it is sustainable to life.”_

_“Human life?”_ another reporter blurts out.

Theodore Sanders glances at them. _“All kinds of life,”_ he says. He even smiles a bit. _“Ever wonder if plants could grow on Mars?”_

Richie’s heart stops beating in his chest.

They’re gonna need a botanist for this trip.

He pulls his laptop out of his backpack and sets to work. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ MARCH 17, 2032 ]**

“I’m just saying, maybe it’s too soon to try and reboot Star Wars!” Jeff says, because Jeff is the worst kind of person that Richie knows. His coworkers are some of the strangest people on the planet, though that’s what he gets for pursuing a doctorate in botany and working for a nerdy research branch out of Berkeley.

  
“After they flopped so hard with _The Rise of Skywalker,_ I think Star Wars owes us a formal apology,” Richie says. Larissa taps her glass against his in solidarity.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It’s been like, fifteen years, Rick, let it go.”

“I shan’t,” Richie says. He grabs a handful of fries from the basket in the center of the table and dumps them on his plate. “Star Wars personally offended me with the creation of that movie. They owe me an apology, and like, the twelve dollars I spent on that movie back.”

“Sue them,” Larissa says. “I want to sue them for emotional damages on what they did to Rose Tico’s character.”

“Hear, hear!” Richie agrees, and he raises his glass. Larissa, Fahra, and Omar all tap their glasses against his. “A remake wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to that series, Jeff. It’s not like the time they tried to remake the Fast and the Furious movies.”

Omar sighs. “Hollywood should just die off,” he says. “Release one movie per year. Total. For the rest of time.”

Jeff opens his mouth to argue, like he always does, so Richie’s more than a bit grateful when his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. His breath catches in his throat when he catches sight of the number on the screen.

It’s loud in the bar, too loud to be answering a phone call like this, so he throws out some half-assed apology as he practically falls out of his chair and runs out the front door. A few people look at him in surprise and annoyance when he bursts outside.

“Hello?” he says, trying to sound normal as he picks up the phone.

_“Is this Dr. Richard Tozier?”_ asks the voice on the other line.

Richie is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating. “It is,” he confirms.

_“My name is Venkat Kapoor. We met, briefly, during your initial screening and interview in Houston. How are you today?”_

Richie puts his fist against his mouth to keep from screaming. He makes himself draw one or two calming breaths before he lets himself answer. “I’m doing real well, sir, how about you?”

_“Not bad on my end, Dr. Tozier,”_ Venkat says. _“Busy as always. I’m sure you can understand.”_

“Oh, yeah,” Richie agrees. He glances up at the sign outside the bar, proudly displaying its name in shitty neon lights. “I definitely understand. Busy myself, as is expected. Work never stops as a botanist.”

There’s a hint of a smile in Venkat’s voice. _“They warned me you were prone to jokes,”_ he says. _“Dr. Tozier, I don’t want to waste too much of your time, but I wanted to call and personally congratulate you. You’ve been selected to be part of NASA Group 27. We were impressed with you personally and with the work you are pursuing at Berkeley. We believe you’d be a great asset on any Ares mission.”_

“Holy fuck,” Richie breathes. He flinches hard when he realizes what he’s said. “Shit, sorry—oh, god. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—god. _God,_ thank you, Dr. Kapoor, I’m so thankful that I was even considered, and being selected is. Is. Holy shit, I’m sorry. Sorry, this is just. A _huge_ honor.”

Venkat laughs. _“You aren’t the first person to swear at me over the phone, Richard, and I doubt you’ll be the last. We look forward to working with you. More information will come soon, but I would anticipate a temporary move to Houston soon. Do you think you can manage that?”_

“For a chance to be a literal astronaut?” Richie asks. “Hell, yes. Sorry. Again. But yes. You’re gonna have to physically kick me out of that building to get rid of me.”

_“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,”_ Venkat muses. _“I’m sure this feels like a dream come true, so I’ll let you go. My assistant will be contacting you soon. I look forward to meeting you in person again, Dr. Tozier.”_

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” Richie tells him honestly. “Thank you so much. Have a good night.”

When the phone call disconnects, Richie lets out a whoop so loud he’s certain it can be heard all the way across the country.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ JUNE 2, 2035 ]**

“A June wedding,” Richie coos. “How romantic.”

If Stan weren’t the happiest he’s ever been right now, he’d probably be glaring at Richie. Instead, he gets an exasperated look for his efforts and a twinkling laugh from Mrs. Patricia Blum Uris herself. She winks at him from underneath Stanley’s arm.

“You’re just jealous we beat you to it,” Patty muses. She looks exceptionally beautiful in her white dress, simple and fitting. Richie’s pretty sure she borrowed it from her cousin. Even Stan looks dashing in his father’s _kittel._

“You guys planned a whole wedding in, like, two weeks, of course I’m jealous,” Richie says. “That’s some dedication right there.”

Stan smiles down at Patty, and his face crinkles when she presses up on her tiptoes to kiss his nose. “We wanted to do it before I left,” he says. “I don’t think I could have spent another second without you as my wife, babylove.”

“This is disgusting,” Richie says. “Truly. The grossest display of true love I’ve ever seen. I’m gonna throw up wedding cake.”

Patty raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t even think about it. We splurged on that cake, mister.”

Richie raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Only for you, Patty-cakes.”

Stan laughs and kisses the top of Patty’s curls. “I think Richie came over here because he was angling to ask you for a dance, but now he’s too cowardly to say anything,” Stan says, raising an eyebrow at Richie as though he’s challenging him to say that he’s wrong.

Richie just extends an expectant hand to Patty, who trills out another laugh as she takes it.

Here are the things Richie loves about Patricia Blum Uris: She is always laughing. She almost always has flecks of paint on her arms or under her fingernails or behind her ear. She hates wearing her hair all the way down. And she’s the perfect, happy compliment that Stan needs to be his best self.

Richie holds tightly to her hand and wraps his other arm around her waist as a song starts to play. “Tell me this was everything you wanted and more, Pats,” Richie says. He’s not sure why he needs to hear it.

“It was the perfect day,” she hums.

Richie spins her slightly, beaming when she laughs and hits his arm to get him to stop. “Was it worth it?” he asks. “The rushed wedding and the last-minute marriage before he gets shot up into space? Wouldn’t you rather have had more time to plan this? Made it everything you wanted?”

“Richie,” Patty whispers. “This _was_ everything I wanted. I got to marry the man of my dreams. Stanley has been it for me since the second I laid eyes on him. It doesn’t matter if we got married in a forest or in a castle or with three people there or with thirty-thousand. I don’t care. I would have married him yesterday when we were both in our sweatpants. This was everything I wanted because he is everything I wanted.”

“That’s so sappy,” Richie says, but he’s crying a bit so it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t mind. Patty laughs and lifts her hand off his shoulder to wipe a tear off his cheek. “You make him so happy, Pats. I know I’ve only known him for, like, two years or whatever, but he’s my best friend. And you bring out the best in him.”

Patty hums again. Her gaze drifts away until she catches sight of Stanley on the other side of the dancefloor, spinning one of her little cousin’s around. Richie watches in fascination as Patty’s entire face goes soft. “Wanna know the easiest thing in the world?” she asks Richie. “Loving him. Wanting to be the best for him. Helping him be his best.”

“Careful now, Mrs. Blum Uris, or you’re gonna turn me into a romantic,” Richie teases.

She winks at him conspiringly. “And what _about_ you, Richie?” she says. “What is everything you want?”

Richie can’t help the way his gaze slides over to Eddie, standing to the side of the bar as he talks to Beverly and Bill. Eddie gives him an exasperated smile when he realizes Richie is looking at him.

“I’ve got everything I want,” Richie says. He thinks he means it. “I’m going to space. I’m going to _Mars._ I’ve dreamt about that since I was a kid. This is the dream!”

Patty raises an eyebrow. “Dreams change,” she tells him. “You’re allowed to want more than one thing. What about when you get back, Richie? You’ll be back by this time next year. What do you want after that?”

Richie glances back at Eddie. He can’t _help_ it. He feels like Eddie is a magnet, and Richie can’t help but be fine-tuned to where he is at any given time.

“I think I wanna… I don’t know. Settle down?” Richie admits. He laughs a little, surprised at himself. His eyebrows must be up to his hairline. “Shit. I’ve never, like, said that out loud. Holy fuck. I wanna settle down. Go to work, regular nine to five or some shit, then come home to my husband and our pets and maybe our kids in a few years and I want to start a garden in my backyard like my mom and I want to get other people as excited about space as I am.”

Patty’s eyes are gleaming when he finally looks back at her. He wonders if his feelings are written out in neon letters above his head. “That sounds like a good life, Richie,” she says. “A husband, though. You sure you could get one of those within the year? You’ve got slim pickings on the _Hermes._ Don’t go after Stan. He’s taken.”

Richie’s eyes dart back to Eddie. It only takes a second, but it’s long enough. Patty’s face is smug. “Maybe I can wait a bit on the husband,” Richie concedes.

It’s Patty’s turn to glance at Eddie as they go spinning by. Eddie raises his champagne glass in salute and Patty laughs in Richie’s ear. “I think that what you want is a lot closer than you realize it is, baby,” she tells him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SOL 192, MARS ]**

_What are your goals, Richie?_

“What are your goals, Richie?” Richie says mockingly. He’s laying on the floor of the cleared out space that used to be his farm. He scowls at the ceiling. It’s still hard, being in here sometimes, in the empty space of what used to be next to the makeshift cover he put where the airlock used to be. But this place used to calm him, and he thinks he needs a little bit of that right now. “I don’t _know_ what my goals are, Dr. Shields. I don’t want to be on this shithole planet anymore.”

Dr. Shields still tries to stay in contact with him, as often as she can. It’s kind of annoying that he has a therapist at all, but he guesses he gets it. He’s really gonna need her if he makes it off this shithole.

If.

Richie’s stomach is in his throat.

He sits up before he throws up.

_If._ Christ, the thought terrifies the shit out of him. Every day he faces the reality that he might not survive, but sometimes the severe possibility that it _might actually happen_ hits him like a ton of bricks.

No, he thinks. He’s made the decision before and he’s gonna keep making it. He knows what he wants. He wants to go home. He wants to see his mom and dad again. He wants to feel the Pacific ocean on his legs again and he wants to walk the same boardwalk he used to walk when he was a kid and he wants to take Eddie down to all his old haunts and hold his hand the whole time. _Eddie._ He wants _Eddie._ He wants an actual, real chance to confess something meaningful. Not just a shitty attempt over a log that NASA will recover years from now. Eddie deserves a real confession. A passionate kiss in the heat of the moment. A chance for them to both be happy. Richie wants that.

A year or so ago, Patty asked him what he wanted when he got home. He didn’t say it, but he might as well have. He wants the house and the pets and the garden and the quiet life and the husband and he wants Eddie and all of it is intertwined.

All of it comes back to Eddie. It always has.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 24, 2037 ]**

“Is this what you want?” Richie whispers, when he finally breaks away for long enough to breathe. “Really, truly?”

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Eddie says, and it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last but Richie has been loving him for four years and will continue to for as long as Eddie will let him so it doesn’t even matter. There’s a kiss-happy look on Eddie’s face and a half-hysterical laugh breaks out of his lips. “I just confessed, like, my undying love for you or whatever.”

“So romantic,” Richie deadpans. “My undying love for you. Or whatever.”

“Shut up,” Eddie hisses. “I’m not the romantic one!”

Richie brushes his thumb along Eddie’s jawline, secretly pleased he gets to touch Eddie like this at all. He’s still not certain this is real. “Baby, baby, baby, you just gave the most romantic speech in the history of romantic speeches,” Richie says. “You can admit it. You’re a secret romantic.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says.

“You _just_ confessed otherwise.”

“Yeah, well, now I un-confess.” 

Richie bites his lip to keep from smiling. “Do you still un-confess if I say it back?” he asks. Eddie’s expression softens. “I love you back, you dumb idiot. I have since literally the second I laid eyes on you. I fall in love with you more every day, which is _annoying,_ because I keep thinking I’ve reached the cap, but then it keeps going.”

“Infinity never stops, Rich,” Eddie tells him.

Richie’s mouth drops open a bit. “Oh, sweetheart, please keep talking mathematics to me. It’s so sexy.”

“I _hate_ you,” Eddie emphasizes.

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me math is sexy.”

Richie tries to kiss him again and laughs when Eddie turns his face away.

“You can’t even _have_ sex right now!” Eddie shouts. Richie presses a wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “You’re recovering from a lung transplant!”

“You took my breath away,” Richie says, meaning it one hundred percent. He waggles his eyebrows and cackles when Eddie groans.

“Your jokes suck,” he snaps, but Eddie concedes and presses another kiss to Richie’s lips, anyway.

“I love you,” Richie tells him again, honestly.

“This is what I want,” Eddie says finally. It’s been a while, so it takes a second for Richie’s mind to catch up, but he grins from ear to ear when he gets there. Eddie smiles back, though he ducks his head and tries to hide it. “Really, truly. This is what I want, _you_ are… You are what I want.”

Richie softens. “Good,” he says. “That’s good. Because you’re what I want, too.”

Eddie kisses him again before they can say anything else.

Richie isn’t sure how long they stay out there, kissing sweetly then kissing desperately then kissing through their laughter when Richie accidentally bumps his nose too hard against Eddie’s. At some point Eddie cradles Richie’s head gently in his hands, taking off Richie’s glasses so that they can both get a better angle. Richie’s melting with how in love he feels, with how happy he is. Everything is Eddie in the best possible way. He waited eighteen long, isolated months on Mars for this. Hell, if he’s being honest, he’s waited for years for this. Maybe he’s been waiting his whole life.

“I love you,” Eddie whispers against Richie’s lips, in the middle of a kiss.  _ I love you,  _ he says with the way he grips Richie’s shirt in his fist. With the way his hand tangles with the curls on the nape of Richie’s neck. With the way his smiles keep breaking up their kisses.

_ I love you,  _ Richie says back, with each desperate press of his mouth against Eddie’s and with every tear that threatens to fall out of his eyes and with every brush of his hand along Eddie’s arms. He’s faintly aware that he’s at his childhood home, that his parents are inside somewhere, that they probably know exactly what’s going on. He’s faintly aware of the fact that he is almost forty-years-old and making out like he’s a teenager.

He’s hyper aware of every breath that Eddie draws, every ragged breath that tears out of his throat. He’s hyper aware of Eddie’s hand when it drops onto his thigh. His senses are overwhelmed with Eddie, filled with  _ Eddie,  _ and it’s intoxicating in ways he could have never imagined. He feels the same way he did when he was just waking up from his surgery, still dopey from the drugs and infinitely full of relief and love when he realized Eddie was in the chair next to his bed.

Dreams change, he thinks, and for a moment he thinks he’s got it all figured out. He’ll take the quiet house and the nine-to-five job and the picket fence and the pets in the house as long as Eddie is there or he’ll take the busy city life and the cramped but perfect apartment and the job offer from Columbia  _ as long as Eddie is there.  _ So much of what he fought for is finally coming to pass and in the face of it all, he knows that he’s got to change what he wants next but none of it really  _ matters  _ because he’ll take whatever life will give him so long as Eddie Kaspbrak is by his side.

“Let me take you to the beach,” Richie gasps, and Eddie laughs against him, but Richie’s on a roll now and he can’t be stopped. “Let me walk you down the boardwalk that Ma and Dad used to take me to each summer. Let me show you where I used to hang out when I was skipping school. Let me show you the tree I carved my name into when I graduated from CalTech, let me show you my old apartment, let me show you everything. The whole damn universe. My entire history. There’s so much I want to share with you, Eds, what the  _ fuck.  _ I’m so in love with you. You’ve got to know it all.”

Eddie laughs again. Richie tries to kiss him but it’s messy with clashing teeth and bubbling laughs since neither of them can really stop smiling. “Show me everything,” he says. “Then I’ll try. Let me show you everything, too.”

And, _hell,_ if that isn't everything that Richie wants out of life and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> follow-up from the note last week, i got my MRI and results concluded i WON'T need knee surgery, which is a huge relief. just physical therapy and lots of anti-inflammatories for the next few months haha. i also did schedule a second interview with the company i applied for previously, so that is very exciting! that's about all i've been up to for the last few days though.  
> reading through your responses to last chapter was such a delight; i'm having so much fun in this universe and it's so wonderful that so many other people are enjoying it as well. i hope i continue to keep you entertained with what comes next.


	7. Chapter 7

as·ter·oid | _noun_

  1. a small rocky body orbiting the sun, though some have more eccentric orbits, and a few pass close to the earth or enter the atmosphere as meteors.



  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 24, 2037** — **TEXAS ]**

The sound of Annie’s head hitting the desk when she thumps against it in defeat is loud enough that it echoes through the room. No one says a word.

“So Kaspbrak just… got on a plane,” Annie says tonelessly. “And no one knows where he went.”

“It seems Beverly Marsh and Ben Hanscom are off the radar, too,” one of Annie’s interns supplies. She gives Annie an apologetic look when Annie shifts to glare heavily at her. “Sorry, ma’am. Just covering all the bases.”

Annie groans. “Do these idiots realize we’re in the middle of a media circus right now? Commander Marsh is _literally_ about to go on trial. No one has dared take their eyes off the _Ares III_ astronauts since they landed back down. And what do three of these astronauts do? Go off the fucking grid. Right before taking the stand.”

“I doubt they’re doing it knowing it complicates your job,” Venkat says helpfully. Annie doesn’t even look up at him. “They may be scientists, but they certainly don’t have your training.”

“Obviously,” Annie snaps. “Oh my god. I’m gonna strangle all of them.”

Venkat hums. “Annie, I’m afraid that would mean that you have to take the stand, instead.”

“Small sacrifices.”

She rubs at her temple and sighs again before finally lifting her head. Her two interns look at her expectantly, notebooks already poised. Annie turns instead to look right at Venkat, who sits in his own chair across from her desk, perfectly nonchalant. She’s already running scenarios through her head, wondering what to say to the press when questioned about this, trying to figure out the best way to spin this at this juncture, when Venkat’s phone chimes with a text notification.

“Ah,” he says, as he pulls it out and reads the screen. “It seems Dr. Kaspbrak swung by Chicago to pick up Hanscom and Marsh before flying out to California to visit Richie Tozier. They’re all together now, Hanscom just texted me to confirm. They’ve got a hotel.”

Annie blinks. “They’ve got a hotel,” she says flatly. “Is Beverly Marsh aware that she’s about to stand in front of a court of law to defend herself in making the call to leave Mars, effectively making the choice to leave Richie Tozier behind? The unconscious choice, perhaps, since they didn’t know he was alive, but a choice that left him there nonetheless? Is she aware that this visit could potentially work _against_ her during this trial?”

Venkat tucks his phone back away. “All due respect, Annie, I’m not sure she cares about that. She does care about Richie Tozier, though. That much is clear.”

“That much is clear,” Annie repeats. She rubs at her temples again. “God, it’s honestly exhausting the lengths to which this crew would go to one another. Do you know how hard I’ve had to push for Richie Tozier to keep his mouth shut with all this trial bullshit hitting the news? This is more than I’m cut out for, Venk. I’m not _cut out_ for Richie Tozier.”

“Benjamin Hanscom promises they will all behave and stay on the downlow,” Venkat tells her.

Annie sighs. “Oh, well if Benjamin Hanscom _promises_ then I guess we’re fine.”

“Have you met Ben Hanscom? The guy wouldn’t know how to go back on a promise even if a gun was held to his head.”

“I can’t take any more drama from this crew,” she warns him. “I’m serious. If these astronauts drop one more ounce of big news, I’m submitting my resignation. And I’ll tell Teddy to blame you, because you’ve enabled them.”

Venkat laughs. “I _enable_ them?”

“I’m fucking serious, Venk” Annie repeats. “No more big news.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ SEPTEMBER 24, 2037** — **CALIFORNIA ]**

“Big news,” Maggie Tozier whispers conspiringly, as she peeks out the window as subtly as she can. “I think Richie and Eddie are making out on the back porch.”

Wentworth gasps dramatically, not looking up from his book. “The audacity!”

“Went,” Maggie says, exasperated. “Could you please act a bit more invested in our son’s love life? How long have we been waiting for this to happen, dear?”

“Waiting for Richie to realize he had feelings for Eddie or waiting for Richie to kiss someone period?” Went asks. He flips the page of his book.

“Oh my god,” Maggie mutters. “It’s like you don’t even _care._ How are we supposed to tease him if you don’t even care?”

Wentworth hums. “I care, darling.”

Maggie finally leans back and stirs her tea, regarding Wentworth with a raised eyebrow. “Normally you’re the first in line to tease Richie when the opportunity arises,” she comments. “Don’t tell me your novel is more interesting than our son.”

“Mags, the boy has been dancing around Eddie Kaspbrak since the second they met. Us teasing him is the least of his worries. Do you think those boys have any idea what’s in store for them once the rest of the crew finds out?”

Maggie laughs and takes a long drink. “It’s cute that you think they don’t already know.”

Wentworth hums. “That’s true. That captain of his probably texted them all the second she left this house to send Eddie here.”

“Oh, they’re getting up,” Maggie hisses. “Act natural!”

“Oh, I shall try my best, darling,” Wentworth promises. He flips another page.

Eddie and Richie are giggling when they stumble through the sliding door. Richie falters when he realizes his parents are in the kitchen. It only takes a second for his face to turn beat red. Eddie holds his hand and tries to hide his smile by ducking behind Richie’s shoulder.

“Hey, Ma,” Richie says, perfectly nonchalant. “Dad.”

Maggie raises her mug. “Boys,” she says with a grin. “Did you have a good talk?”

Richie, impossibly, flushes darker.

“Real good, Mrs. Tozier, thank you,” Eddie pipes up. A sharp, startled laugh breaks out of him when Richie elbows his gut. Eddie pinches Richie’s side in retaliation, like they’re children instead of grown adults who have been to _space_ and back, literally. Maggie raises her mug to her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her grin.

“That’s nice,” she hums. “Isn’t that nice, Went, dear?”

Wentworth grunts, and turns another page of his novel.

“Ma,” Richie mutters, embarrassed. Behind him, Eddie is still grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it now. “We’re gonna go, uh. Watch a movie. In the living room. If that’s cool.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” Wentworth asks.

Eddie cackles, loud and bright.

“ _Dad,_ ” Richie yelps, mortified. “I’m not—we’re not. Oh my god!”

“Doctor recommends Richie wait at least a few more weeks,” Eddie chimes in. Richie yelps again and tugs Eddie forward, practically sprinting out of the room.

“Richie’s actual doctor or you, Dr. Kaspbrak?” Maggie asks. She takes another sip and raises her eyebrows.

“ _Mother_ ,” Richie begs. “Eds, for fucks sake, _stop,_ we’re leaving. Leave us alone, _don’t_ come into the living room. Where we will be watching a movie. You aren’t allowed to speak to me until Eddie leaves, oh my god.”

Eddie laughs as he stumbles forward, and it only takes a second for Richie’s laughter to join in with his, both of them still giggling as they rush out of the room. Maggie can still hear their sharp peals of laughter even after they’ve settled in in the other room.

“Alright,” she allows. “That was pretty good teasing.”

Wentworth smiles. “I do know how to rile our son up, Mags, I’ve known him for forty years.”

“Ugh,” Maggie groans. She puts her mug in the sink and rinses it out. “We’re so old.”

* * *

The past two hours since he kissed Eddie Kaspbrak have been kind of perfect, if Richie is being completely and totally honest.

He’s not biased.

He’s _not._

Honestly. Okay, sure, he’s been waiting for this day since the literal second he saw Eddie Kaspbrak for the first time, probably, but he thinks that the last two hours would have been pretty damn great regardless of whether or not he and Eddie has kissed on his porch two hours ago and he’ll say it to anyone that listens.

Okay. Maybe that’s a lie. Richie’s good mood is probably, definitely influenced by the fact that Eddie’s tongue was in his throat two hours ago and it’s probably gonna influence Richie’s mood for the rest of eternity.

Still, it’s pretty fucking great being able to sit on the couch with Eddie and curl into him and _not_ wonder if it means anything when Eddie plays with his hair. Richie can safely assume that it does mean something, and that it means something fucking _awesome_.

“You’re such a fucking loser,” Eddie mutters, when Richie expresses all of this to him, but his cheeks still go pink and there’s no hiding the faint smile that keeps threatening to take over Eddie’s face no matter how hard he tries. He curls a little bit closer to Richie.

“Like, I know we’re forty year old men, and I should not feel like a middle school girl whose crush just asked her to prom, but here I am,” Richie says dreamily. If he turns his head to the left, he can press a kiss to the top of Eddie’s forehead. He does it after he realizes there’s literally nothing holding him back from doing it.

“Oh my god, _stop_ ,” Eddie laughs.

“I shan’t,” Richie says honestly. He’s not sure he’ll ever shut up now that he knows Eddie Kaspbrak loves him back.

Eddie sighs like he’s extremely put out, but his hand is still scratching lightly at Richie’s scalp and coming through his curls calmly and Richie knows, honestly, that if they both had it their way neither of them would move for days.

Richie huffs in indignation when Eddie shifts them just enough so he can pull his phone out of his pocket. “Oh, stop,” Eddie mutters, but when he settles back down he pulls Richie even closer to him.

“It’s so cute that we’re cuddling like we’re teenagers,” Richie says. He half expects his parents to walk in and start teasing them again.

“Do you want me to move?” Eddie asks wryly.

Richie tightens his arm around Eddie’s waist. “Don’t you dare.”

He can feel it on the inside of his bones when Eddie laughs. It starts in his ribcage and expands until his toes are warm and he’s certain his heart could burst right out of his chest. He decides it doesn’t matter, if it does; Eddie would catch it either way.

“Wait a second,” Richie says, when Eddie unlocks his phone. Eddie sighs like he knows what’s coming. “Wait. Please lock your phone again. Please, for science.”

“Just because we’re scientists doesn’t mean you can use _for science_ as an excuse to get people to do things.”

“ _Eddie,_ ” Richie insists. “Eddie, babe. Love of my life. Light in my sky.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Rich—”

“Am I your lock screen?” Richie asks gleefully.

Eddie sighs for nearly fifteen straight seconds, extremely put out. Richie loves him so much it’s going to kill him. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Babe, we literally just kissed for the first time, like, less than two hours ago,” Richie goes on. “Did you change your lock screen the second I planted one on you? That’s so fucking cute. Wait. Oh my _god._ Please tell me I was your lock screen before I kissed you. Please, Eddie, for my health.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie snaps. “You’re so annoying, I hate you.”

“You literally don’t, I’m your _lock screen._ That’s, like, the millennial way of confessing your undying love for someone.”

“I’m changing the picture,” Eddie deadpans.

Richie laughs, loud and bright and happy and _warm._ “Fine, change it if you’re gonna be whiny about it, but at least make it a sappy picture that you and I take, right now, sitting on this couch and cuddling.”

“What is this, 2015?” Eddie grumbles, but there’s still pink on his cheeks and his eyes are bright and happy when he lifts his phone up to take a picture of the two of them. It’s honestly one of the corniest things Richie’s ever seen, with his arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist and Eddie’s face pressed against his. Still, it’s the best picture Richie’s ever seen and probably the happiest he’s ever looked.

“Send that to me,” Richie asks, and he nuzzles his nose into Eddie’s hair.

“So bossy,” Eddie says around a sigh, but he sets the photo as his new lock screen and sends the picture off to Richie right after. He can feel his phone vibrate but he makes no move to grab it, too comfortable and happy where he is.

“I love you,” he murmurs, even though he just spent the last ten minutes giving Eddie shit and neither of them have any business being as soft as Richie feels right now. Even though it’s not the first time he’s said it today and likely won’t be the last time he says it today.

He can feel Eddie’s smile even without seeing it. “I know, you weirdo,” Eddie says back.

“Say it _back,_ ” Richie whines.

“I literally just changed my lock screen to a couples picture of us,” Eddie says.

“And now I want you to tell me you love me!”

Eddie laughs. “I said it earlier!”

Richie pinches Eddie’s side. “ _Eddie._ ”

“I _love_ you, Christ!” Eddie says around another laugh as Richie pinches his side again. “I’m fucking in love with you. Happy?”

Richie ducks his face into Eddie’s shoulder and holds Eddie just a little bit tighter. “More than I can even say, baby.”

They stay like that, even with some movie playing on the television that Richie couldn’t name if pressed. He feels content and warm; it doesn’t take long for his eyes to start drooping. He shifts lazily in and out of consciousness, safe knowing Eddie’s arms are around him.

He hears it when his parents come to check on them, as he knew they would. Eddie must still be awake; Richie can feel it when Eddie shifts and raises his hand in a small wave. If they say anything, Richie doesn’t hear it, dozing off once again.

The movie finishes; Eddie doesn’t move. Richie presses a kiss to Eddie’s chest, the nearest spot he can reach. He can feel it when Eddie smiles.

“Go to sleep, Rich,” Eddie says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not tired,” Richie lies.

Eddie’s breathless laughter rumbles against Richie’s cheek. “Liar.”

Richie hums and curls his hand into Eddie’s shirt. He thinks he could spend the rest of the day strewn out here like this, curled up like a cat in the sun against Eddie and just as warm. Hell, he could spend the rest of his life like this.

Of course, Eddie’s phone rings.

Two seconds later, Richie’s starts to ring as well.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_Trial Date for Commander Beverly Marsh Set_ **

_By Chris Hargensen_

Sep 30, 2037

_This article was produced in partnership with the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting._

HOUSTON — After weeks of media silence, NASA finally announced a judge has set a date for the investigative trial of Commander Beverly Marsh and the critical choices she made that led to the eighteen-month-long abandonment of Dr. Richard Tozier on Mars.

Justice Rogelio Serrano de la Cruz has set the date for the 13th of October, 2037.

“NASA is not trying to accuse Commander Marsh of anything,” said Theodore Sanders, chief director of NASA and key player in the rescue mission that led to Dr. Tozier’s safe return. “We don’t question Commander Marsh’s motives; we just want to ensure that no one ever does again.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_WHAT IS NASA TRYING TO PROVE? Trial Date for Commander Marsh Set In Stone_ **

_By Elizabeth Ripsom_

Sep 30, 2037

The events that lead up to astronaut and botanist Dr. Richie Tozier’s eighteen-month-long lone expedition on Mars was certainly no secret, though it’s been a rollercoaster from start to finish. What began as tragic news about an astronaut killed in action soon became America’s greatest story of hope, with news of his survival breaking and near-impossible feats conquered to bring him back home. The entire nation was rooting for him; perhaps even the entire world.

But how were the brave astronauts who risked everything to bring their friend home greeted upon their return? With a slap on the rest and a near-immediate announcement of a trial breaking involved the commander of the crew, Beverly Marsh. One question seems to be on the forefront of America’s mind as trial coverage continues—just _what_ is NASA trying to prove, here?

The _Ares III_ crew has been silent in light of the events, but rumors have been circulating that Dr. Richie Tozier himself is not thrilled with the trial taking place. It’s still unsure whether or not he’ll testify for Commander Marsh or against her.

What, exactly, will come out of this trial, though? How is it fair to these astronauts—who survived something many people would be incapable of surviving—that we demand they justify every action they took that led to leaving and coming back? At what point do we admit to ourselves that the trauma has come and passed but it still lives with them, and who are we to put them through the ringer time and time again?

NASA has not issued any formal statements as to what would happen if Commander Marsh was proven guilty of negligence. At this point, it seems like NASA has no clue what they’re doing; it’s possible they’ve been grasping for straws during this entire thing.

E!Online confirmed pictures of the _Ares III_ crew exiting planes in Houston, TX, most likely congregating together now that the date of the trial has broken. Dr. Richie Tozier was spotted being assisted by Dr. Eddie Kaspbrak, fellow astronaut and friend. He seems to be healing well, though he can be seen using a cane in the photograph. None of the other crew was spotted with them, but they were spotted at the same airport.

Now, with less than two weeks to go before Commander Marsh takes the stand, one question rings louder than any others: how will the crew move forward once this trial closes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> HI HELLO IT'S BEEN A MONTH CAN YOU BELIEVE. I DID NOT INTEND TO BE AWAY THIS LONG. anyone who follows me on tumblr might be aware of the mini break i took for my mental health, so that meant taking a break from writing as well. i've also been consumed by a different writing project that is slowly but steadily working towards completion. BUT. i am officially working from home and all my nursing courses have been shifted to online as well, which means while i'm twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the phone to ring, i can use some of my time to get more writing done.
> 
> i hope everyone is staying safe! the world is a scary place right now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves a magic wand* I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT LAW I'VE NEVER EVEN WATCHED A LAW BASED TV SHOW JUST NOD AND PRETEND THIS MAKES SENSE. IT'S FICTION. THANK U

gal·ax·y |  _ noun _

  1. a system of stars held together by gravitational attraction.
  2. a large group of impressive people or things.



  
  


**[ OCTOBER 13, 2037 ]**

“Welcome to CNN’s  _ Richard Tozier Report,  _ I’m Cathy Johannsen. For those just tuning in, I’m currently standing outside Houston’s courthouse, where inside the trial against Commander Beverly Marsh of the  _ Ares III  _ mission is about to begin. Marsh arrived earlier this morning, and following close behind her was the rest of the crew. It was quite a sight, as every member of the crew lined up and held hands as they ascended the steps of the courthouse. This image, snapped by first year law student Adrian Mellon, was shared on Twitter and went viral within twenty minutes of its posting. Up until now, the crew of the  _ Ares III  _ mission has made no public statements as to where they stand in regards to this trial…”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:02]** You look like you’re gonna be sick

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:02]** i FEEL like i’m gonna be sick

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:03]** We should have pushed harder to move the date. Your health is important.

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:04]** stop. no. she’s more important and you know it

**[9:04]** i’m just sick because i don’t know how to protect her

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:04]** Yeah. I don’t know how to protect her either

**[9:08]** Is Eddie holding your hand?

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:09]** yeah

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:10]** Good

**[9:31]** Trial’s starting, put your phone away

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[9:31]** aye aye

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT: Marsh v. NASA, Marsh takes the stand**

_ Beverly Marsh, geologist, planetary scientist, and commander for the Ares III mission spanning from June 2035 to August 2037, addresses judge and jury on October 13, 2037. Below is a partial transcript for the trial, including excerpts from crew members as they took the stand. Click  _ **_here_ ** _ to view the whole transcript. _

(Transcript provided via the New York Times)

SNELL: Commander, please describe for the court what Sol 6 looked like. For you.

MARSH: Regular day. We were getting work done. It was early, when we got word a storm was hitting. It was more powerful than our radars picked up at first. I gathered the crew and we waited to hear from NASA. We got confirmation that the mission was being cut short, so I instructed the crew to suit up.

SNELL: Did everyone suit up properly?   
MARSH: Yes. We were all frantic, but we had been trained for this. I checked everyone’s suit before we opened the airlock. It was a nightmare outside. Zero visibility. I was relying solely on the homing telemetry between my suit and the MAV.

SNELL: That’s the Mars Ascent Vehicle.

MARSH: Yes. Our one way ticket off of Mars.

[ _ scattered laughter _ ]

SNELL: How did you proceed?

MARSH: We paired off. Same pairs as always. Me, at the front, as commander. Flanked by Denbrough and Hanscom. Uris and Hanlon immediately behind me, and Kaspbrak and Tozier behind them.

SNELL: Why not all holding on to one another?

MARSH: It would have made it harder for us to get to the MAV. Paired off was the way we were trained.

SNELL: I see. What happened then?

MARSH: We were making progress towards the MAV. Tozier, he… Excuse me. He had been saying something into the comms, but it cut off mid sentence. Kaspbrak told us something hit him. I asked for his report multiple times and received nothing. Uris, um. Uris confirmed that Tozier’s suit was offline, and that his telemetry was down.

SNELL: Take your time. It’s okay.

MARSH: Thank you. I’m sorry. Ahem. Kaspbrak relayed where Tozier’s last known location had been as well as an approximation for which direction he’d been knocked. I ordered Hanscom and Denbrough to continue on to the MAV. My hope was that Uris, Hanlon, Kaspbrak and I would be able to locate Tozier and get to the MAV in time to evacuate.

SNELL: You say ‘in time’. Were you operating in a restricted time frame?

MARSH: Yes. The winds were strong. The MAV was in danger of tipping. If we didn’t make it and launch in time, we would have all been stranded.

SNELL: I see.

MARSH: When Hanscom got to the MAV, he confirmed the mission was scrapped. The Hab wasn’t supposed to survive the storm…

SNELL: Take a breath, Dr. Marsh.

MARSH: I’m sorry. I’m okay. The mission was scrapped. While we were searching for Tozier, Kaspbrak got a message from Tozier’s bio-monitor. That keeps track of his vitals. All reports went to Dr. Kaspbrak, as he was the medical doctor on board.

SNELL: And what did the bio-monitor report?

MARSH: [ _ strangled _ ] Blood pressure zero, pulse rate zero. Temperature normal.

Snell:  _ Normal? _

MARSH: It can — sorry. It can take a while for a body to cool down.

[ _ murmuring in the court _ ]

SERRANO DE LA CRUZ: Order. Dr. Tozier, please sit down.

MARSH: It’s okay, Rich.

SNELL: Can a bio-monitor confirm loss of life?

MARSH: No. Not definitively. It only relays vitals.

SNELL: And without proper vitals, one could safely assume an instance of death.

MARSH: I… yeah. Yes.

SNELL: What did you do after Kaspbrak received the results from the bio-monitor?

MARSH: I ordered the rest of the crew to retreat to the MAV and continued to look for Tozier myself.

SNELL: I’m sorry, wait. You stayed behind to look for him?

MARSH: For as long as I possibly could. I tried to use the rover IR camera to catch a glimpse of Tozier. I suggested a proximity radar. I…

SNELL: Go on, Dr. Marsh.

MARSH: I ordered Hanscom to launch without me if the MAV started to tip.

[ _ exclamations from the court _ ]

SERRANO DE LA CRUZ: Order,  _ order. _ Please remain conducted. Dr. Tozier —

TOZIER: Beverly—

SERRANO DE LA CRUZ: Dr.  _ Tozier,  _ you may speak when it is your turn to take the stand. 

MARSH: Richie, it’s  _ okay.  _ You know I had to.

  
  


SNELL: Dr. Uris, in the case that anything happened to Commander Marsh, you were determined to take over as interim commander, correct?

URIS: Yes, that is correct.

SNELL: Did you have any additional duties as second in command?

URIS: There was no official ‘second in command’ title. We all had jobs. We were assigned positions. We deferred to Commander Marsh. If something happened to Marsh that made her incapable of completing her responsibilities as Commander, I would step up and take her place. We would all still do our jobs. We would continue our assigned positions.

SNELL: I understand. Dr. Uris, Commander Marsh admitted to the jury earlier that she commanded the crew to evacuate without her in the case of the Mars Ascent Vehicle tipping. Can you give us some insight as to what was happening in your head at that time? Both as a crewmate and, potentially, as an expectant interim commander?

URIS: I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about how a dear friend of mine had just gone missing. I was thinking about how another dear friend of mine was going to go missing soon unless we got her on the MAV. I understood her desperation to find him. I think we all did.

SNELL: I see —

URIS: No, I’m sorry. What needs to be understood is that the  _ Ares III  _ crew has always been more like family. Richie—sorry, Dr. Tozier, he used to call us the lucky seven. Sol 6 I felt a lot of things. I felt devastation at our mission being cut short after only six short sols on the surface. I felt fear at the realization that we might not make it off on time. I felt anticipation at the idea that even though the mission was cut short, I would be on my way home shortly to see my wife. But more than that I felt agony at the loss of Dr. Tozier. He was my best friend.  _ Is  _ my best friend. And in that moment, when Commander Marsh was ordering us to go, all I could think was, “I can’t lose another one.”

SNELL: Dr. Uris —

URIS: I know. That’s not the answer to the question you asked. But the jury still needs to know. None of us wanted to leave without Dr. Tozier. None of us wanted to leave without Commander Marsh. And for what it’s worth, it was a unanimous decision to return back to Mars to rescue Dr. Tozier. And, again. For what it’s worth. I think every last one of us wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

  
  


TOZIER: Is this thing on?

SERRANO DE LA CRUZ: Dr. Tozier, please.

TOZIER: Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it. Ask anyone on the crew, I’m just like this all the time.

SNELL: Please state your full name for the record.

TOZIER: Richard Wentworth Tozier.

SNELL: Thank you. Dr. Tozier, how are you feeling today?

TOZIER: Dandy. Got myself a new set of lungs, you know? Fresh off the grill. I think they’re settling in quite nicely. Finally graduated from a wheelchair to a cane. Oh, and as Eddie proudly told me today, I’m almost back up to my normal weight! Well, my weight before we went into space.

SNELL: That’s wonderful news. I can say you look much healthier. And Eddie, you mentioned, this is Dr. Edward Kaspbrak, correct?

TOZIER: The one and only.

SNELL: Has Dr. Kaspbrak been your primary physician since returning to Earth?   
TOZIER: Oh, god, no. They whisked him away when we all landed for his own physicals. He’s just a neurotic little freak who likes to check up on me himself. He did take care of me when I returned to the  _ Hermes,  _ though.

SNELL: Dr. Tozier, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions about your eighteen months alone on Mars.

[ _ uncomfortable murmuring _ ]

TOZIER: Hah. Well. Do I really get a choice?

SNELL: I won’t push too hard.

TOZIER: What the hell. Hit me.

SNELL: Can you describe for the jury what it was like on Sol 6?

TOZIER: Oh, yeah. Well, like everyone else has said, it was a regular day. The radars didn’t even pick up the sandstorm, so it felt like it was coming out of nowhere—

SNELL: I apologize. I should have been clearer. Can you describe what it was like on Sol 6 after the rest of your crew left?

TOZIER: Oh. Um. I woke up to the sound of something beeping. It was my oxygen alarm, it was… my suit was alerting me that I was critically low on oxygen. I, uh. I had been impaled by an antenna that had broken free. Blood and dirt had caked around it, which was the only reason I survived. Survival instincts kicked in. I guess. We had breach kits on our suits, so I grabbed mine. Um. Yanked the antenna out, attached the breach kit, and waited until my oxygen stabilized. Then I went back to the Hab.

SNELL: How soon did you realize you were alone?

TOZIER: As soon as I made it to the Hab. The MAV was gone. The Hab was empty. I went inside. Waited for the airlock to equalize, then made my way into the medbay. I dug out the remaining antenna and stabled myself up.

SNELL: [ _ in surprise _ ] You  _ stapled  _ yourself?

TOZIER: I had no choice. The puncture, it was. Christ. It was deep. And I made it worse trying to dig out the broken antenna piece. Guess it’s lucky I had spent so much time hanging around Dr. K, otherwise I wouldn’t have known how to stitch myself up.

SNELL: The antenna. Did it puncture anything else, or just you and the suit?

TOZIER: Oh, it completely obliterated my bio-monitor. That’s probably why no one could get any readings.

  
  


SNELL: Dr. Tozier, from what you’ve described, you survived impossible scenarios. Was there ever a time you were certain you were dead?

TOZIER: Oh, there were multiple times. I almost gave up, too. But I had. I had a family to fight for. A few reasons to want to survive.

SNELL: You’re very lucky for that.

TOZIER: Tell me about it.

SNELL: Dr. Tozier, I just have one last question for you. Do you believe Commander Marsh abandoned the search for you too soon?

TOZIER: No. Honest to god, no. And I’ll say it every day until the day I die. She did the right thing. It was either me or all of them and I am glad it was just me. I would never want any of them to risk what they risked for me. I would have done it, too. If I were in her shoes.

SNELL: Thank you, Dr. Tozier.

  
  


SNELL: Dr. Kaspbrak, can you tell us about your history in working with medicine?

KASPBRAK: I graduated cum laude from John Hopkins School of Medicine, then shortly after began my residency as a surgeon at a hospital in Portland, Maine. I was offered a fellowship position in Dallas, and while in Texas I grew interested in biomedicine. After completing my fellowship, I returned to school to pursue a master’s degree in biomedical sciences. I worked for a few years as a surgeon while also working to publish my research on the musculoskeletal alterations and effects that occur as a result of deep space travel.

SNELL: Thank you. Now, earlier, Commander Marsh explained that you received all bio-monitor alerts, correct?

KASPBRAK: Yes, they all came to me. As the flight surgeon and medic, it was my job to monitor the health of the crew.

SNELL: Dr. Kaspbrak, based on the results of Tozier’s bio-monitor at the time of the evacuation, and based off of your expertise in the medical field, would you say it was a safe bet to assume that Dr. Tozier had been killed from the impact? Based solely on the results of his bio-monitor and your expertise.

KASPBRAK: Based off of the bio-monitor, yes. Richie, he… Dr. Tozier. He shouldn’t have been able to survive decompression as long as he did. With no readings for his pulse or his blood pressure, it was… all the crew could do was assume he… Assume he was gone.

SNELL: I see. And Dr. Kaspbrak, as the flight surgeon, did you personally believe Dr. Tozier was dead?

KASPBRAK: [ _ stiffly _ ] I’m afraid I can’t answer that question objectively.

SNELL: Oh. I’m sorry. Why’s that?

[ _ a long pause _ ]

KASPBRAK: Well. At the time of the evacuation, I was in love with Dr. Tozier.

[ _ exclamations from the court _ ]

SNELL: [ _ loudly, over the commotion _ ] Oh, my god. Dr. Kaspbrak, I apologize —

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**FROM: Eddie My Love**

**[12:01]** Were you ever going to tell me about all the injuries you sustained?

**TO: Eddie My Love**

**[12:02]** eventually. when it wasn’t so fresh. were you ever going to tell me what sol 6 was like for you?

**FROM: Eddie My Love**

**[12:04]** I don’t know

**TO: Eddie My Love**

**[12:05]** i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just don’t want you to see me as weak

**FROM: Eddie My Love**

**[12:05]** Baby I have never once thought of you as weak

**[12:05]** Stupid, maybe

**[12:05]** A pain in my ass? More than once

**[12:05]** But weak? Never

**TO: Eddie My Love**

**[12:06]** i love you

**[12:07]** do you think we said enough to help bev?

**FROM: Eddie My Love**

**[12:08]** I think NASA’s gonna have a storm coming for them if we didn’t.

**[12:08]** I love you too

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Dr. Kapoor, _

_ I’ve recovered them. All of them. I’m downloading them to hardware now. I will deliver them to you in person; I’m assuming we still want to keep this on the down low as much as possible. _

_ Hope to hear from you soon to arrange a time to meet. _

_ Regards, _

_ Veronica _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**FROM: Big Bill**

**[12:15]** Congrats to you and Eddie. Though I suspect today is not the first time you’ve heard him say he’s in love with you. So I expect a story after this.

**[12:15]** Annie Montrose looks like she’s going to kill you both after this, though. Hope you knew what you were in for.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**VOICE MEMO, Untitled 58: Oct 13, 2037 at 14:01:43**

_ “Holy fuck. It’s over. The trial is really over.” _

[He laughs uncertainly.]

_ “Well, now what the fuck do we do?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> this chapter was SO FUN in some ways because i got to return to a similar format i used in the first part, focusing less on prose and more on the epistolary kind of storytelling. but it was also really sad because. well. you read it, you know.  
> my oh my. i hope everyone is holding up okay :( stay safe, take breaks, take care of yourselves, all that. not much has changed for me since the last time i updated besides that i took my finals, passed, had a very exciting spring break (ha. ha.), and started my next quarter. classes are hard but fun, though i'm exhausted by the work load consistently.  
> well! i hope you enjoyed this short snippet of the trial. i didn't want to go too in depth because. well. i don't know anything about law. we're just smiling and waving here folks. real run of the mill stuff. BUT next chapter includes more fluff, some closure, and a few more tied up loose ends before this installation is completed and it's on to the next part!  
> stay safe! stay happy. be well!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had no idea how i was going to end this story when i began it and part of me can't believe this is the last chapter of this installation but. we made it. we made it.
> 
> *potential trigger warning for mentions of suicidal ideation during richie's time on mars, mentions of being triggered, descriptions of recovery and healing, and mentions of ptsd. please take care of yourself while reading.

me·te·or | _noun_

a small body of matter from outer space that enters the earth's atmosphere, becoming incandescent as a result of friction and appearing as a streak of light. also known as a shooting star.

  
  
  


GOOGLE SEARCH: beverly marsh 

About 162,000,000 results (0.59 seconds)  
  


Top Stories

Commander Beverly Marsh of Ares III cleared of all charges…

CNN - 10 minutes ago

Trial comes to a close as Beverly Marsh is declared…

Houston Times - 10 minutes ago

A COURTROOM CONFESSION? A cosmic love story comes to light during trial against…

People Magazine - 1 hour ago

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Venk,_

_I am requesting your presence when I meet with Dr. Kaspbrak and Dr. Tozier regarding the nature of their relationship that came to light during the trial and how we can minimize media fallout. I would appreciate it if you would be there so I don’t strangle Kaspbrak the second I lay my eyes on him. I do still enjoy my job and I would like to keep it._

_Best,_

_Annie_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:02]** How are you feeling?

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:04]** relieved. kind of in shock

**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:05]** I knew they wouldn’t find you guilty of anything. You did what you were trained to do. It would have turned into a larger thing had the decision gone any other way

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:05]** that’s not what i’m in shock about :)

 **[14:05]** but thank you, i think i needed to hear that. i’m really grateful for your support

**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:06]** Ah. Richie and Eddie?

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:06]** DID THEY THINK THEY COULD GET AWAY WITH NOT TELLING US?

**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:06]** In their defense I think they were a little preoccupied with the trial hanging over our heads

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:07]** ugh it’s so cute that you always see the best in people

**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:07]** :)

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:07]** hey. to celebrate, do you wanna get dinner later?

**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:08]** Dinner sounds awesome. Stan was talking about this place he used to go to during training

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:08]** stan can take patty there

 **[14:08]** do you wanna go get dinner just me and you?

 **[14:08]** well. do you wanna pick up food and eat it in our hotel rooms so i don’t have to look at any more cameras?

**FROM: Ben ❤**

**[14:08]** Oh

 **[14:09]** I’d love that actually :)

 **[14:09]** Thai?

**TO: Ben ❤**

**[14:10]** :) you know me so well

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**VOICE MEMO, Untitled 59: Oct 14, 2037 at 08:49:12**

_“Shit. Damn it. Oh, fuck, I already hit record.”_

[The recorder fumbles. There’s a sound of a door opening and closing softly.]

_“There we go. Trying to be quiet ‘cause Eds is still sleeping. Little guy’s all tuckered out. From the trial. Yeesh, get your mind out of the gutter.”_

[Softly over the recording, he laughs.]

_“I can’t believe it’s over. Ever since news of the trial broke, I mean, it’s… it’s been looming over our heads. Eddie apparently suspected there was a chance of it happening before they even intercepted me. But now it’s just. We’re all home. We’re all safe. We get to move on, we get to… we get to just_ be _on Earth and be with each other and stop living on that damn ship. Because honestly, sometimes it fucking feels like we never got off it.”_

[He sighs, then there’s a long pause.]

_“So, really. Now what the fuck do we do? Go back to normal? Is that even, like… possible?”_

[Faintly, a door creaks open, so quietly it’s barely picked up by the recorder. It’s quiet for a while. Then he exhales sharply.]

_“I don’t know. Maybe we find a new normal. Eventually I’ll be back to full health, or however much health I get after all the shit I went through. I get to start working again. I could… I took a job offer. In Chicago. It’s closer to Eddie. Hell, maybe he’ll go there with me. I think I could get him to move in with me. There’s… a lot I want to do. A lot I might even be able to do. Soon.”_

[He laughs breathlessly to himself.]

_“Well, I’ll tell you what. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it’s that I get to adjust to whatever the fuck this new normal is with Eddie fuckin’ Kaspbrak by my side. Can’t say I ever dreamed I’d be this lucky.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ OCTOBER 14, 2037** — **TEXAS ]**

Eddie hums contently when Richie settles back into bed beside him. His voice is thick with sleep when he asks, “Feel better?”

“Hmm?”

“You were recording yourself talking, right?” Eddie asks. He shifts until he can wrap his arms gently around Richie’s middle. His head tucks against Richie’s shoulder. “D’you feel better?”

Richie ducks his face into Eddie’s hair to hide his grin, even though Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. “Yeah, it helped. Helps.”

Eddie hums again. He presses his nose into Richie’s ribcage. “Love you,” he murmurs.

“Love you,” Richie answers back. No hesitation. “Hey, are we gonna talk about that?”

“That I love you?” Eddie murmurs. His hum reverberates against Richie’s chest. “That can wait. Can’t it? It’s not like that’ll change anytime soon.”

Richie lets out a soft, punched-out noise. It’s almost a laugh. God, he wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling like the luckiest fucking guy in the universe. “That’s good to know, but I was referring to your love confession in front of a literal jury. You know, the news that went viral yesterday.”

“Oh,” Eddie grunts. He shifts his head again until he can press a kiss against Richie’s chest, then pushes himself up on his forearms. His hair hangs a little bit, grown out longer than usual. Richie tugs on a strand and grins when Eddie sighs. “Do you wish I hadn’t done it?”

“No, Eds, it was hot as fuck,” Richie promises him. “Seriously. If I didn’t rely on a cane to get me from place to place, I would have jumped the gate and planted one on you while you were still on the stand.”

Eddie places his hand over Richie’s heart. Richie wonders if he can tell it’s pounding. “You watched too much Judge Judy as a kid.”

“We all watched Judge Judy, what else were we supposed to do in our developmental years in the early 2000s?” Richie asks. “Plus, I think I’d remember if some dude interrupted a testimony to go plant one on the witness in the stand. Sounds romantic as shit.”

“As romantic as an astronaut confessing his undying love for another astronaut on his mission while on the stand?” Eddie asks.

Richie tugs on Eddie’s hair again. Eddie leans into it. “Nah, I don’t think anything would top the romance of that, sweetheart.”

Eddie leans forward enough to capture Richie’s mouth in a soft kiss. It’s been three weeks, and only just, since the first time they’ve done this. Richie still hasn’t figured out how to keep himself breathing.

“Hey,” Richie says, when Eddie pulls away and settles back in hovering above him. “Google says the recommended time to wait to have sex after a lung transplant is four to six weeks. It was six weeks exactly the day you confessed your undying love to me for the first time. I think our bases are safely covered.”

“We will not be doing anything on any bases until after your physical at the end of the week,” Eddie gripes. “Four to six weeks is the average recommended time for someone who was in _considerably_ better health than you were.”

“You know, _you_ could give me a physical right now, Doc, then we’d be all clear,” Richie tells him. He grins wolfishly when Eddie looks at him in exasperation.

“We’ve already established that I’m a biased opinion.”

Richie’s grin goes soft and goofy. “Why, because you’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, that,” Eddie allows. Slowly, intentionally, he rolls his hips up against Richie’s thigh, making the press of his half-hard dick impossible to miss. Richie’s mouth goes dry. “That and a few other things.”

“Oh,” Richie croaks, strangled. He honest to god whimpers when Eddie rolls away. “Okay, that was just cruel.”

Eddie grins. With the hand still placed over Richie’s heart, he tightens his grip until he’s got a fistful of Richie’s shirt. Richie groans. His head drops against the pillows and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Think you can hold off for a few more days?”

“You do know how long I was stranded on a planet all by myself, right?” Richie asks dryly.

“Oh, beep beep,” Eddie snaps, but he’s still laughing. Richie chases that laughter right up until he can get his mouth on Eddie’s again. He twines his hands into Eddie’s hair just because he can. It’s a lazy kiss, mostly interrupted by the fact that neither of them can really stop laughing for enough that anything could come of it. Richie’s still intoxicated on it.

On the table beside their bed, Eddie’s phone starts to buzz. Eddie sighs into Richie’s kiss. They’re still pressed chest to chest. He pulls away slowly and rolls his eyes when Richie makes a protesting sound. “It’s Kapoor,” Eddie says. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Richie raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like you want to ravish me and can’t believe I have the audacity to check my phone right now.”

“I _do_ want to ravish you and I can’t believe you have the audacity to check your phone right now,” Richie insists. “We were making out!”

Eddie glares at him. “We were barely kissing. You were laughing too hard.”

Richie makes an affronted noise. “Excuse me, _you_ were laughing too hard!”

“Kapoor wants to see us,” Eddie says, effectively putting a pin in their pseudo-argument. His brow is furrowed so tightly that Richie wants to press his thumb to the center of it and smooth it out. His mouth curls into a petulant frown. “With Annie, but he says it’s not just about PR stuff from the trial.”

Richie sits up and adjusts his glasses. “What else could it be about?”

He’s not ready for it when Eddie says, “Your logs. They found the logs you made on Mars.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**LOG ENTRY: SOL 448 [Cont., text] - Tozier, R**

_This is my third entry for the day. That’s a lot, even for me. In my defense… Well. I’ve already said it. We know what tomorrow is._

_I can’t stop thinking about what’s gonna happen to these logs when I’m gone. They’re history, you know? And scattered throughout them is irrefutable evidence that this dumb old botanist was ass over tits for the flight surgeon._

_Is it so wrong of me that I don’t want just anyone to see these?_

_Not before._

_Not…_

_Fuck. Fuck it all. Not until I get a chance to tell him in my own words myself._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ OCTOBER 14, 2037** — **TEXAS ]**

“I don’t understand,” Tozier says. He blinks slowly, in shock. Venkat fidgets in his chair. “The logs, I. I saved them all on a drive, all of them. The drives you sent us up there with. But I, I, I… I put the drive in. In Eddie’s _box,_ how did they get recovered?”

Next to him, Kaspbrak turns a bright red.

“Yes, and we’ll get into the nature of that in a short bit,” Annie says dryly. Venkat looks at her in exasperation.

“You did, yes,” Venkat agrees. “But this is NASA, Richie. We backup everything. We backup our backups. You left the physical logs on Mars, but due to the unfortunate reality that missions don’t always go as expected, NASA needs a contingency plan to recover any data recorded that may be needed. That includes all information saved on the Hab’s software.”

Kaspbrak puts a hand on Tozier’s knee. “Does this mean you got the data from all the work I finished?”

“Wait, what?” Kaspbrak asks. “You finished our work?”

Tozier turns his own bright pink. Venkat looks between the two of them slowly. “It’s not like there was much else to do up there, you know,” Tozier says defensively.

But Kaspbrak has stars in his eyes. “You finished our work,” he repeats.

“It was very commendable, what you did,” Venkat tells him. “When we realized what you were doing, well. You touched a lot of people, Dr. Tozier. The impact you’ve left here is quite sizable. And yes, to answer your question. We did receive all the data from the work you finished.”

Tozier nods slowly. “That’s good,” he says faintly. “That’s the good news out of this, I guess.”

Venkat sighs. “Yes. I’ll take that as confirmation that you believe your logs being recovered, too, is the bad news.”

Tozier glances at Kaspbrak. “Uh… I swear a lot in them.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s your most pressing concern right now.”

“Yeah,” Tozier agrees. He lets out a small laugh. Kaspbrak twines their hands together. “Uh. But really. Lot of swearing. It literally cannot surprise you that _fuck_ is my favorite word. A lot of self deprecating humor. Some… I don’t know. Suicidal ideation, I guess? Preparations I took in case I died. Letters I wrote for everyone. Logs I recorded when I felt fucking hopeless.”

“Richie,” Kaspbrak breathes. His knuckles go white.

“Oh, and, uh,” Tozier says around a forced laugh. He uses his free hand to point at Kaspbrak with his thumb. “One or two thousand love confessions for this asshole sprinkled in and throughout.”

Venkat nods. He had, in all honesty, expected as much. “I spoke with your psychiatrist, Dr. Shields,” he says carefully. “She expressed the concern that this very distinctly documents a trauma you endured for eighteen long months.”

“I would fucking think so, yes,” Tozier agrees.

“I’ll say,” Kaspbrak mutters.

Venkat glances briefly at Annie. She nods to encourage him to continue. “The thing is, Richie, these logs they… they belong to NASA. But we would be remiss if we ignored the fact that they were all you had for eighteen months. So we’re giving them back to you, on the condition that they’ll return to us. You can choose what you don’t want to be shared. No one has watched these yet, only you know what’s on them. And you can decide what gets seen and by whom. But we… we do need them back.”

“Did Dr. Shields sign off on this?” Kaspbrak interjects. “Asking him to rewatch these, to relive that, isn’t—won’t that make it _worse_ for him?”

Tozier clears his throat. “It’s fine, Eds.”

“He can take as much time as he needs,” Venkat says easily.

“I’m okay,” Tozier repeats. “There’s. There’s history in them. Scientific documentation and proof that sustainable forms of life are possible on Mars under certain conditions.”

“It’s also documentation of the worst and most painful eighteen months of your life,” Kaspbrak snaps. “Richie. _Come on,_ you don’t have to do this.”

Tozier takes the hard drive Venkat hands him and places it in his lap. Then, with his free hand he reached forward and tugs Kaspbrak’s face forward by his jaw. He rests their forwards together and closes his eyes. “No one else can fucking see these until I do. Until you do. That’s it, Eds. No one else until we’re through with ‘em.”

“Rich, you don’t have to show me these,” Kaspbrak starts.

Tozier closes the small gap between them with a kiss. Venkat drops his eyes. This moment isn’t for him, anyway. “Eds, you realize I made ‘em for you, right? I was talking to you. The entire time.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Kaspbrak breathes.

Annie clears her throat. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says. Kaspbrak and Tozier pull apart and look at her. “But speaking of stupidity. Kaspbrak, we need to talk about how you just told a court of law and, as a result, the entire world that you were in love with a crewmate that you went on a life-threatening mission to space with.”

“Hey, now, to be fair, I was _also_ in love with a crewmate that I went on a life-threatening mission with,” Tozier chimes in. “And neither of us knew it was, like, a thing until three weeks ago. Also it’s romantic as shit, you can’t deny that.”

Annie sighs. Venkat ducks his head to hide his grin.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Dr. Tozier,_

_Your appointment with Dr. Abigail Bateman has been confirmed. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow, October 17th, 2037, at 9am._

_Thank you._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:31]** Are you going to?

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:32]** yeah. today

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:33]** You know there’s no rush. Right, Rich?

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:35]** maybe not from nasa but there is for me. i think… watching them will help me realize that it’s really over you know?

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:35]** Might help with the nightmares.

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:35]** exactly

 **[12:35]** stan. did i ever apologize for that night on the hermes?

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:36]**??

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:36]** when i had the nightmare about little sprout stan and gave you a fright

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:37]** Richie you know you have literally no reason to apologize for that, right?

 **[12:38]** Did I ever thank you for naming the little guy after me?

**TO: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:38]** i love you stan the man

 **[12:38]** [image attached] meet sprout stan jr.

**FROM: Stanley the Manley**

**[12:39]** Oh. Fuck you

 **[12:39]** I love you.

 **[12:39]** Fuck Richie I’m so glad you’re here.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[ OCTOBER 16, 2037** — **CALIFORNIA ]**

Eddie swears loudly as he trips over another box. “Richie, I swear to _fucking_ god, how do you have so much shit—”

“Blame Maggie and Wentworth for that one, they should have thrown all this shit out when they packed up my apartment. I was allegedly dead, you know.”

“Beep beep,” Eddie warns. Richie can hear him pushing boxes against the wall. “Are you taking all of this with you when we move?”

Richie glances up from his computer. “Baby, I’ve already told you, there’s only two things I need when we get to Chicago. Deep dish fucking pizza, and you.”

Eddie straightens up. There’s a look on his face that Richie thinks is meant to be stern but just comes off as incredibly fond. Richie grins back. Whatever resolve Eddie had left crumbles in a second and he crosses the room so he can press a kiss to the top of Richie’s head. “You’re stupid,” Eddie says happily. “You need clothes.”

“You have clothes.”

“You’re four inches taller than me, my clothes do not fit you.”

Richie clears his throat. “Actually, um. They did, you know. When I was on Mars. Your clothes fit. A little too short on the torso, maybe, but I. I wore your hoodies a lot. It made me feel better. Like I wasn’t, um… alone?”

Eddie’s face goes through a series of complicated emotions. He sits down heavily on the bed next to Richie. “Are you… ready to talk about it?” Eddie says slowly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever definitively be ready,” Richie admits. “But I. I don’t want to keep things from you. And I think we need to. Watch the logs.”

“Rich,” Eddie breathes. He reaches forward and cups Richie’s jaw in his hand. “Your physical is tomorrow. We’re packing you up for a move across the country. This can wait, baby, you know that. Right?”

“It can but it can’t,” Richie says. “You know? I feel like. I think I need to. To fucking prove that I—I _did_ it, you know? I survived. I made it back. Sometimes it’s. Sometimes I wake up and I think I’m still there. I wake up and I look up and I see the fucking Hab canvas above me. I can smell the fumes from the Hydrazine flow. And I wake up and I can’t move because my body isn’t the same and I feel like I’m there but I’m _not,_ I’m _here_ and I just want. I want to fucking feel like I’m here.”

Eddie closes the small space between them and presses his mouth softly to Richie’s. It’s a reassurance clear as day. Richie is here. Richie is _here._ And Eddie is across from him, real and breathing and living and loving Richie like he was born to do it. Richie squeezes his eyes shut to keep himself from crying.

“I’m really fucking proud of you,” Eddie admits. Richie laughs wetly. “I’m serious. I don’t know if anyone’s said that to you yet. I think we’ve all been too afraid.”

“Yeah, well, I operate on a hairpin trigger these days.”

Eddie laughs against Richie’s lips. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me,” Richie reminds him.

Eddie kisses him again. And again. And again. “I do,” he agrees. “God fucking help me, I do.”

They pull apart, after a moment. Eddie stands and grabs a blanket to drape over Richie’s shoulders while Richie pulls his laptop back and connects the hard drive. When Eddie sits back down, it’s beside Richie on the bed instead of across from him. Richie’s already pulled up the first video log from Sol 7. The man in the image is one that is barely recognizable to him. That Richie is two years younger and has no idea what’s in store from him. Richie looks at his younger reflection and wonders how the hell he even made it to where he is today.

Eddie takes his hand.

“You can do this,” he promises. Richie doesn’t doubt him for a second.

He takes another deep breath. Eddie presses a reassuring kiss to the side of his head.

“I love you,” Eddie says fiercely. Richie looks away from the computer screen. Eddie’s gaze is intense, unwavering. He means it with every fiber of his being. “Whatever happens in these logs, whatever you say, whatever you do. My love for you isn’t going anywhere. Ever. Do you know that?”

Richie smiles. “You’re the most intense person I’ve ever met in my life and I love you so much my heart is gonna give out. Did you know _that?_ ”

Eddie squeezes his hand. Richie looks back at the computer. He can do this. Hell, he can do anything these days. Richie feels fucking unstoppable. Better than that, he feels _alive._ And for the first time in a long time, he’s not worried about that changing anytime soon. He just gets to be, now. He just gives to live. And he thinks he’s earned that.

“You ready?” he asks Eddie.

“Are you?” Eddie shoots back.

  
Richie raises their intertwined hands and presses a kiss to Eddie’s fingers. He plays the video. Over the tinny speakers of his laptop, a voice that’s two years old and a thousand lightyears away says, _“So. I’ve deduced that I’m pretty much totally fucked.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> captain's log:  
> the closing chapter of this installation brings the word count of this series to over 100k, something i truly truly truly cannot believe. god what a journey. i will try not to get so sappy and sentimental in this closing note but please know that every day i am blown away by the response i receive to this story. every day i am grateful for the friendships i've made because this story exists. i love this universe and these characters and it is overwhelming how loved these characters are by you guys. i don't have the words to thank you.  
> as is probably obvious from the past 100k of this series, i don't know how to shut up, so this isn't the end of the martian fic universe. i have at least three more oneshots planned and possibly an additional multichapter. i'm not quite ready to say goodbye yet and i hope most of you agree lol.
> 
> WELL. SAPPY CLOSING NOTE ASIDE. thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who followed this for as long as you did. thank you for the kind words. thank you for your art, your playlists, your gifsets, your jokes, your memes, your friendship. this little author cannot comprehend how such a niche story could go so large. THANK YOU.
> 
> as always, you can find me on [tumblr](https://rchtoziers.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE) if you want to come say hello. i'll probably be hanging around crying over the fact that this installation is complete!


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